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empresskylo · 5 months

Note

can you make a fix of cod guys reaction to you getting into an argument with them, which causes us to flinch and cover our face from any impact because we had an abusive ex.

featuring Ghost, Price, Soap, Gaz, Konig, & Alejandro

⊹ cod men x gn!reader

[ warnings ] domestic violence implications

cod masterlist

Ghost

He’d run his hand through his hair if he didn’t have this bloody mask on. Ghost looked down at you, his eyes narrowing in and scrutinizing your every minute detail. You tried to glare back, but you were feeling rather small with the weight of his disappointed glower.

“You’ve got t’be more careful,” his voice boomed, though he was trying to keep it at a normal level.

“I know, I’m sorry—”

“Sorry isn’t gonna cut it when you get someone killed,” he growled, taking a step in, closing the space between the two of you.

You stepped back on instinct and bumped into the wall—trapped. You suddenly felt trapped. You knew that logically he wouldn’t hurt you, but something about his pissed-off demeanor and towering frame triggered something in you. Your breathing increased exponentially and Ghost watched helplessly as your chest rose and fell in rapid beats.

A bit taken aback by your response, Ghost raised a hand to grab your shoulder and you turned your head and shied away. You let out a small gasp as if waiting for him to land a blow on you.

You squeezed your eyes shut, the entire moment passing by excruciatingly slow. That’s when you knew you fucked up. Ghost dropped his hand and his fist clenched, putting everything together all at once. Something inside him broke seeing you look at him like that—with fear in your eyes. It fucking hurt.

“M’not gonna hurt you,” he said in a much softer tone than earlier. He’d never lay a hand on you, even out of love, if you didn’t want it.

You blinked rapidly, forcing yourself to look up at him, your face inflamed. “I-I know. I didn’t… I don’t know why…” The words got lost in your throat. You were so embarrassed.

“Who?” He asked sharply.

You tilted your head, your hands squeezing at your sides. Ghost took a step back to give you room, though he wanted nothing more than to step into you closer, to pull you against him. He didn’t care how annoyed he was with you, all that drifted away, unimportant nonsense he’d come back to later.

“ Who… ?” You repeated.

“Who. Hurt. You?” He bent over slightly, aligning his face with yours as he talked, making sure you couldn’t turn your face away from him.

“J-Just an ex-boyfriend. It’s not a big deal. I don’t know why I responded like that. I-I know you wouldn’t hurt me.”

Ghost sighed, his eyes dancing between yours. “No. I wouldn’t.” His voice was dark and deep again. “But I have nothin’ against hurtin’ that bastard.”

“Ghost, please.”

He straightened and rolled his shoulders, trying to suppress the bubbling anger. He looked down at you at last. “Can I touch you?” He asked softly.

You nodded, tears falling down your cheeks now. He tentatively took a step towards you and pulled you into his arms. He wrapped them securely around you and you nuzzled your face into his jacket. If he wasn’t so shocked over the way you responded to him, he’d be yelling at you to tell you who it was that hurt you so he could hunt them down.

Instead, he clutched you close to him, trying not to think about the fear that crossed your eyes, even if it was momentarily. Even if it wasn’t because of him. He never wanted you to look at him like that again. Something rotten tugged at his heart as he felt you try to stifle your cries. Oh, he was definitely going to kill that bastard. And he was going to make it slow and painful.

Price

You chased after Price as he made his way down the hall. “I swear I didn’t mean to—!”

He cut you off, spinning on his heels, making you bump into his chest and slam to a halt. “It doesn’t matter what you meant !” He yelled, losing his composure briefly.

You flinched at his loud words, stepping away from him. It was a quick movement, a subtle tick of your face, your eyes squinted as you pulled your head away. You acted like this was something you were all too familiar with.

Immediately Price’s anger shifted away from you and onto whatever bastard trained you to cower.

His widened eyes traced your face and you slowly read his expression as he came to the realization of why you would flinch away from him when he shouted. You watched as several emotions crossed Price’s countenance.

His voice was hushed as he edged closer to you, the deep baritone sending a shiver up your spine. “Y’don’t have t’tell me now,” his voice was so low as he spoke. “But you will tell me who, eventually.”

“John, I–”

He was always so gentle with you. But right now, the intense hatred for whoever this bastard was that harmed you, took over. He shook his head and clicked his tongue. “Don’t wanna hear it, doll. You will tell me who did this to you if it’s the last thing I get out of you.”

A wave of heat crossed your cheeks, his eyes boring into yours. You nodded meekly and his face softened. “Com’ere,” he cooed, opening his arms. You stepped into them and were immediately surrounded in the warm comfort Price brought you, one hand rubbing circles on your back and the other sliding up into your hair, tucking your head under his chin.

“S’your not mad at me, anymore?” Your words muffled by his body.

You felt his chest rumble as he spoke. “Could never stay mad at you.”

Soap

“Blood hell,” Soap whined, annoyed with you for hiding the arm wound you got the other day.

“It’s not as serious as it looks,” you tried to convince him, your lips quirking into a weak smile.

He closed his eyes to collect his last remaining patience. “Not serious—” he repeated, his words rising in several octaves as he pinched the bridge of his nose. “You’ve got twenty stitches in your arm! How the fuck is that not serious?!”

He reached for your arm and you pulled it away, shuddering briefly from the brief touch of his fingertips. The two of you froze, his eyes darting to meet yours the second he saw the shift in your composure.

“Gonna tell me why y’just did that?” He sat still in his seat, trying to steady his voice.

“Did what?” You asked, attempting to play dumb, but the tears were already misting in your eyes.

Soap sighed, his face dropping as he studied you. “Fuckin’ hell,” he said with displeasure. “You shoulda told me. I wouldn’t have—I woulda been more—” He lost his words, watching as a few stray tears fell down your cheeks.

“Hey, hey, hey,” he said softly. His thumb came up to wipe the tears away, his hand then cupping the side of your cheek. “S’okay. M’not mad.” You leaned into his hand.. “Jus’ wish ya woulda told me.” You nodded and he gave you a weak smile.

“Com’on, let’s get that bandage changed.” His voice was gentle as he coaxed you up, wrapping an arm protectively around you as he led you down to the infirmary. You would discuss this later. Right now, all he wanted was to make sure you felt safe in his arms.

Gaz

Gaz wouldn’t say he had anger issues… he just got passionate about the people he cared about, and sometimes that would come out in spurts of angry shouts. What he didn’t expect, was the way you reacted the first time he ever lost his cool in front of you.

“I cannot fuckin’ believe Shepherd,” he growled.

“Maybe we should just focus on the positive,” you said meekly, trying to help calm Gaz down.

“Yeah? And what fuckin’ positive is that?!” He shouted as he paced back and forth. He regretted it the moment it left his lips.

You squeezed your eyes shut at his words and brought your hands up for the briefest of seconds to cover your face.

Gaz whispered your name and you instantly tried to compose yourself. You straightened and gave an awkward smile.

“That wasn’t at you,” he corrected, his eyes deflating as he watched you. “I-I’m sorry. I’d never hurt you,” he said wistfully, running his hand over his hair and cursing. He looked at you completely differently than he had just moments earlier. His entire demeanor shifted. He was suddenly staring at you with such intensity it made something well in your eyes.

“No, Gaz. It’s not you.” That was the last sentence you could get out before the tears escaped. You quickly wiped them away and Gaz stepped towards you, resting both hands on either one of your shoulders.

“Hey,” he said calmly.

You gave him a sideways smile. “It’s just…” you tried to get the words out but they slipped away.

“S’alright. You don’t have to tell me.” His hands slid down your arms, giving you a squeeze before releasing you. “You know I’d never hurt you, right?”

You gave a small laugh. “I know that, Gaz.”

“Good.” He pulled you into his chest without asking, all his anger from earlier transforming into gentleness. “You can tell me when you’re ready,” he said into your hair.

You nodded. “Thank you.” He held you a bit tighter and you closed your eyes in peace. You never wanted him to let go.

König

He was frustrated with the way you were angry at him for insisting he do this mission alone. “You’re gonna get yourself killed!” You argued.

He had enough. He didn’t lose his temper often, but there was no way Konig was allowing you to come on a mission quite this dangerous. He pushed up from his chair, the table in front of him shaking as he did.

He was a big guy, and you knew that, but the way he quickly took up the space of the room amazed you. “Verfickte Hurerei!” Fucking hell! he shouted. “Why are you pressing this so hard?!” He gestured towards you, his fists clenched and you winced. You cowered away, surprising even yourself with your actions.

Konig watched you through his rapid blinking, dumbfounded by what just happened. It took him a second to process.

“Liebling?” He asked his voice back to its usual tone. “I wasn’t going to— fuck . I’m sorry.” A pang of guilt coursed through him. You thought he was going to hit you? Jesus Christ. He wanted to reach out to you but he refrained, knowing that might make things worse.

“Konig,” you whispered and his eyes snapped to yours. He tilted his head, studying you as you regained your composure. “S’not you.” Your words were so faint it hurt his heart a little.

He watched as you wiped away a stray tear. Your body had shifted back to how things used to be. Before Konig.

Your lip quivered and you felt so small and embarrassed. Konig mouthed your name breathlessly and you blinked away tears before closing the distance between the two of you. You practically fell into his arms and he tightened them on you instinctively.

“You okay, liebling?” He cooed, his hand stroking your hair.

You nodded. “M’sorry.”

He pulled back so you had to tilt your chin and look up at him. “Don’t apologize.” His hand came up and stroked your cheek.

“It’s not you,” you tried to reassure again, worried Konig was going to eat himself alive thinking you were afraid of him.

“I know.” Your lips pinched together and Konig pulled you back into him. “You’re safe. You’ll always be safe with me.”

You felt tears fall; not out of terrible memories, but out of the love you felt radiating off of Konig.

Alejandro

“Jesus, would you just listen to me?” You shouted.

“Listen to you?! You haven’t heard a fucking thing I’ve been saying!” He yelled back. His accent was always heavier on his words when he was mad.

He took a big step towards you, his knife still in his hand, covered in blood. You flinched when he approached so suddenly. His dark words and his fast movements made you duck in fear.

Alejandro paused all his movements, startled by your reaction. “Jesus,” he mumbled, sheathing his knife and holding his hands up. “I wouldn’t hurt you, mi amor.” He shook his head in frustration with himself. His jaw clenched as he watched you look back up at him. How awful he felt seeing your beautiful features shrouded in fear.

“I…” you swallowed hard. “I’m sorry. The yelling… I don’t know. It just made me think back to…”

Something inside Alejandro shifted at your faint words. “Mataré a ese bastardo,” I’ll kill that bastard , he growled. “Who was it? Who fuckin’ touched you?”

You shook your head. “Alejandro, please. It was so long ago.”

He clenched his fist, his other hand coming up to the scruff on his jaw. He closed his eyes to try and contain himself. When he opened them, you could still see the darkness lingering behind them. “I don’t care how long ago it was, mi amor. I need you to tell me who it was.”

You frowned and he closed his eyes again before walking up to you and pulling you into his arms. “God. I swear I’ll fuckin’ kill him.”

You let out the softest of giggles at how dramatic he could be. But still, you felt so safe knowing he would go to the ends of the world to protect you. You felt him kiss the top of your head, mumbling something about being sorry for yelling.

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moonhoures · 7 months

Text

“It Just . . . Slipped”

🕷️ kinktober — day 12: daddy kink 🕸️

pairing: chan (stray kids) + reader (afab/fem)

genre: non-idol!au, smut

warnings: 18+, minors do not interact, explicit smut, established relationship, vaginal penetration, no mention of protection but please use it irl!!, pet names ‘princess’ & ‘baby’ for reader and ‘daddy’ for chan

word count: ~1.2k

synopsis: the title is pretty self-explanatory 😅

posted: october 12, 2023

kinktober masterist

On a random Wednesday night, Chan definitely wasn’t expecting to discover one of your kinks. Yet, there he was. The two of you had been together for about a year at this point, so you had sex countless times. If asked, he would say he was fairly confident that he knew a lot about you intimately. He knew what you liked and didn’t like. He knew what certain sounds meant. He knew what buttons to press to turn you on or make you cum. It was almost like a form of science to him. He might not be an expert, but he could teach a class, you know? Metaphorically speaking of course.

So you could imagine the surprise on his face when on this night, as he’s fucking into you tirelessly, he hears you say, “Please fuck me harder, daddy.”

He almost didn’t catch it. For a split second, he even wonders if he heard you wrong, or imagined it. Several seconds went by before his hips caught up to the speed of his brain, and his body faltered. His pelvis stuttered, coming to a halt between your thighs. Your face was already growing heated as you realized what you had said. Your hands reached up to cover your face, but the damage was done. You couldn’t hide. You couldn’t run. There was nowhere to go.

“What was that?” he asked, less with accusation and more so with a tone of playfulness. If your eyes had been open, you would see a teasing grin on his lips.

“I’m sorry!” you quickly responded, your voice coming out squeaky from the embarrassment that flooded your entire being, “It just . . . slipped.”

“It’s fine, I just . . . didn’t know you had a daddy kink,” he laughed softly on the second part, which made your heart drop into your stomach, “That’s new. Where did it come from?”

“I don’t have a daddy kink,” the defense left your lips instantly, like a reflex. But the both of you could tell you weren’t one hundred percent confident in what you said. For the most part, it was true. You didn’t have a daddy kink, that you were aware of, at least. You didn’t actively seek out any kind of erotic content with that word. And you hadn’t been immensely turned on by the term before. You didn’t have a problem with the term by any means, but never had it crossed your mind to use it in practice? Honestly, you had found it kind of cringy. But now you were rethinking everything.

“You sure? Because you definitely just called me daddy, and it sounded pretty natural,” he said, the cheeky smile still on his face, “You’ve been thinking about that for a while, haven’t you?”

“I haven’t! I swear,” your words muffled through your fingers, making him laugh again. He redistributed his weight so he could reach up and peel your palms away from your eyes. When he had your hands pinned beside your head, he interlocked his fingers with yours and enjoyed the beauty that was your face. Your wide eyes, full of nervousness and shyness. Your cheeks, full of the warmth that came from his scrutinizing gaze. Your lips that he could tell you were biting on, a nervous habit of yours. He loved all of it.

“It’s okay, _______, really. Don’t think about it too much,” he spoke softer now, leaning down slowly to press relaxing kisses against your chest. , “Sex is supposed to be natural. So just let your body do what it wants. Say what feels right, yeah?”

You nodded, still feeling the humiliation deep in your bones. But Chan always had a way of putting you at ease. He was like the human embodiment of the comforting feeling you get from a hug. Like lighting your favorite candle and relishing in the relaxing aroma after a long day.

Your boyfriend continued to kiss you wherever he could reach, returning to thrust into you. You were so immersed in the feeling of his cock moving in and out of you as well as his lips on your skin, that your nervousness began to melt away. Your lips were released from the grip of your teeth, parting as pathetic moans fell from them. Chan kept your hands on the pillows, his fingers tightening around yours as he grinded his hips a little more precisely between your own. He drew the most carnal noises out of you, much to his pleasure.

As his orgasm grew close, he noticed your tell-tale signs hadn’t happened yet. He usually preferred cumming with you, or as closely as he could get. So he reached between you two, wetting his fingertips with your own arousal before circling your clit. Soft whimpers caught in your throat, making him smirk against your neck where he was pressing kisses and making hickeys that he knew you would nag to him about later.

“Gonna cum with daddy, princess?”

“Princess” was not a new pet name for you, but it still made your chest flutter. “Daddy”, however, sent your body into a tingling fit. Maybe it was because it was him that was saying it. You really weren’t sure why it suddenly had this kind of effect on you, but Chan seemed to be eating it up, much to your chagrin. You groaned in embarrassment at his question, feeling like he was mocking you, though you knew he would never do so maliciously. He just liked making you flustered.

“Hm? Speak to me, baby. Who’s your daddy?”

Okay, now he was just having too much fun with this. For a second you wondered if you should give in and play along, or ignore him altogether. But you knew your boyfriend just as well as he did you. You knew he wouldn’t let this go, even after this was said and done. He would make you revisit this moment again and again unless you begged him to stop. And you weren’t sure if you wanted to do that just yet. Maybe you could give this a try, at least this once?

“Come on, _______, answer me,” he tried to urge a response out of you by nuzzling his nose against yours, making you giggle softly.

“You, Chan,” you finally caved, making his grin widen. His dimples showcased on his nearly flawless skin.

“I didn’t hear you, baby,” he teased you further, making you whine. Though it was mixed with a moan as he slowed his thrusts down, focusing on going deeper. He was reaching the spot that had your thighs twitching with pleasure. That, plus the toying of your clit, was bringing you so close. He could practically taste your orgasm.

“Chan, don’t-“

“Uh uh, say it again, ________. Who’s your daddy? Come on, make my day, princess.“

“Fuck- You are,” you repeated, a little louder as your orgasm came rolling down and out of your pussy. Your cunt throbbed and clenched around him, and he finally allowed himself to cum with you. Your two essences became one as they coated his cock, making a mess between his thighs and yours (and the sheets, unfortunately).

“That’s right,” he whispered, but you picked it up. He let out a laugh as you pinched his waist.

“You’re not going to let me live this down, are you?” you asked while he kissed your cheek.

“Absolutely not.”

— taglist #1

@jaylaxies @xiaoting999 @kookthief @zaddywilk @wonrangwoo @pedriswrld @ikykleeknowww @odisdad @abby-grace @jungwonloveer @pinklemonadeflav @celestialplatinum @luvkpopp @nlklstan @kisses4denji @jenos-eye-smiles @a-l-i-y-a @channiesprincess @bekah931215 @heerinnie @fairygirl18 @cinnikoi @im-ur-calico-cat @unlikelysublimekryptonite @k-drizzle

#stray kids smut #bang chan smut #chan smut #skz smut #stray kids fanfic #stray kids imagines #stray kids scenarios #stray kids x reader #chan fanfic #chan imagines #bang chan scenarios #chan x reader #[🕷️] kinktober 23

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freedomfireflies · 11 months

Text

Yours*

Summary: The third part to Mine*

Your mafia boss boyfriend, Harry, is out of town when you need him most.

And Harry is never one to leave you unsatisfied.

So, he calls in his right-hand man to help.

Word Count: 5.9k

*Contains Mature and Explicit content, so please only consume what you feel comfortable with!💞*

“Well, well, well. Look who’s finally home.”

Your cheeks warm as you walk through the door of the apartment, eyes immediately landing on Asher, who sits on the couch.

He’s got a phone cradled between his shoulder and his ear and he wears a teasing smirk as he watches you walk in.

You laugh at his comment, tossing your things onto a nearby chair. “Hi.”

“Hi, sweetheart,” he greets, finger tapping the spiraled cord. “Everything go all right?”

“It did. Paul was very nice.”

“Good,” he replies, seemingly pleased. “Good. Then we’ll keep him on rotation.”

You nod just as Asher looks away, something on the other end of the phone regaining his attention.

He hums and murmurs, “Yeah. Two in front and two behind. And Paul’s been briefed.”

Already bored with the conversation, you make your way for the kitchen to grab a snack, leaving Asher to his phone call. You rustle around in the cupboard for a moment before you catch another comment just behind you:

“She said he was nice,” Asher repeats, and you glance over your shoulder at him. “I don’t know. Sweetheart, are you comfortable with Paul as your driver?”

“Yeah,” you call back. “I think I like him the best, to be honest. He was very…warm.”

Asher’s brow raises. “She said he was warm,” he repeats to the other caller, which you assume is Harry. “How warm?”

This question is directed at you, and you sigh playfully as you assume Harry is giving him the second degree. “Tell him to relax. Warm just means friendly. He doesn’t have a stick up his ass like the other guys.”

Asher’s smirk widens slowly as he says, “She said…she wants you…to relax.”

You can already tell by the amused expression on his face that this is not going over well with Harry. And when Asher tsks his agreement to Harry’s response, you feel a drop in your stomach.

“Mhm,” Asher mumbles, giving you a once over. “I don’t know. She has seemed a little…tense.”

You still in your spot, the box of Cheez-Its slowly dropping to your side. You feel…hot under his scrutinous gaze. Nervous about the discussion happening out of your earshot and even more apprehensive of Harry’s reaction.

“Sweetheart, are you feeling…tense?” Asher asks you now, forcing you to swallow thickly.

“Tense?” you repeat curiously.

“Yes, tense,” Asher says, leaning into the cushions as he tosses one arm over the back of the sofa. “Anxious. On edge. Perhaps a little…wound up?”

You pretend to think, one shoulder bobbing up in a nonchalant shrug. “I don’t know. Not…not really. Just…excited about Harry coming home.”

Asher seems amused by this, the phone still pressed firmly to his ear as he mumbles a short recap of your response before waiting for Harry’s. “Is that all?”

You shift your weight from one foot to the other. “What do you mean?”

“Is that all that’s been bothering you?”

“I don’t…I don’t know what you mean.”

His eyebrow quirks up. “Are you feeling taken care of?”

You instantly catch on to the implication, but you feign obliviousness, shrugging once more. “Well…yeah. You guys are here twenty-four-seven. I’m never alone and I’m not worried about Sean anymore. I’m fine, don’t worry.”

Slowly and deviously, his head cocks to the side. “Sweetheart, that’s not what I meant. And you know it.”

You simply blink.

Chuckling into the phone, he nods before motioning you forward, instructing you to approach.

Cautiously, you do, feet padding across the apartment and over to the couch as Asher stands and hands you the phone.

He towers above you, and there’s a certain look in his eye you can’t quite place as he moves around you and gestures for you to sit where he once was.

You do, wrangling the cord out of the way as you get settled while Asher continues to stand.

“Hello?” you murmur tentatively.

“Hi, mama.”

It’s only been three days since you’ve seen him but hearing Harry’s familiar voice over the phone instantly puts you at ease.

You can’t help the smile that bursts free across your face. “Hi.”

“Missed hearing your voice,” he says, and it’s that rough purr of his that makes your stomach flip. “Miss a lot of things about you.”

Your skin warms as you look down at your lap, acutely aware of the way Asher is staring at you. “I miss you, too.”

“Are you behaving yourself?”

“Mhm. Trying.”

“Are you sure about that?”

You swallow again. “Yeah. Just…waiting for you to come home.”

“Is that right?”

“It is.”

“And have you been taking care of yourself for me while I’m away?”

You shift. “Um…of course. Been doing some yoga in the mornings out on the patio. Did some cooking. Oh, and I started a new book.”

A moment of silence. “Is that all?”

You nod, even though he can’t see you. “Yeah. Yup, that’s…that’s about it. Asher’s been keeping me busy.”

At the mention, Asher’s brow raises.

“Has he?” Harry hums. “And you’ve been behaving for him as well, mama?”

A question posed more like an instruction.

“I have,” you tell him softly. “Promise.”

“Hmm.” Another beat. “He tells me otherwise.”

You feel your skin grow hot. “What?”

“Mhm. Tells me that when he asks you how you are…you lie to him.”

With wide eyes, you look up at the man still looming above you. “No. No, I don’t…I don’t lie to him. I promise.”

“No? Then you’re lying to me?”

Your lips purse shut. “No, I’m not lying to either of you.”

“Funny. Because I asked you if you were taking care of yourself and you said yes,” he says, and you can hear the beginnings of displeasure slipping between each word. “Yet Asher tells me you’re not.”

“He…he does?”

“Mhm. Tells me you’ve been feeling restless. That you’ve been whining to yourself in your sleep. That you’ve been…needy.”

You look back up at the tall man a couple feet away, and even though he can’t hear what’s being said, the look on his face suggests he’s got a pretty good clue.

And while you’re slightly nervous about being…called out in such a way, you know that you wouldn’t want it to be by anybody else.

Harry has always been good at getting what he wants, and even if you’re anxious about his potential reaction, you know that you’re in the best hands.

Both pairs.

“Is that true, mama?” Harry asks, forcing your attention back.

“I…I don’t know.”

He tsks. “Do better.”

“…I guess,” you breathe, pushing yourself back into the sofa cushions almost as if trying to hide. “Just…just been missing you.”

“I know, honey,” he coos. “But what did I tell you about taking care of yourself while I’m gone?”

Your thighs begin to squeeze together, attempting to fight off this feeling now blooming in your stomach. “S’just not the same, Har. Wanted to wait for you.”

“Even after I told you otherwise?”

You squirm. “Thought I’d edge myself a little. At least until you got back. Know you like when I do.”

He hums again. “I do, sugar. But I certainly don’t like when you disobey me.”

“I…wasn’t trying to. Just didn’t think it was that bad.”

“Asher seems to think otherwise.”

There’s a catch in your breath.

“Said he doesn’t like seeing you in so much pain, mama,” Harry tells you. “Said he doesn’t feel like he’s doing his job as your protector when he has to leave you like this.”

And almost as if knowing what Harry is admitting, you notice Asher begin to smile as he slowly lowers into a crouch in front of you.

“And he really doesn’t like when you go against my direct orders,” Harry murmurs. “And it’s his job to tell me when you do. Isn’t it?”

You nod.

“And I’m good to you, aren’t I? I take care of you? Make sure you’re well looked after and safe? That you never miss me too much?”

“Yes,” you whisper, your voice small.

“Yes,” he agrees. “Which is why you’re making me sad, honey. Don’t like to hear that you’re not behaving for me. That when I leave, you disobey me the first chance you get.”

“Wasn’t…” you attempt to argue but it seems as though you no longer have the ability to speak in coherent sentences.

“No? So, if Asher were to check right now, he wouldn’t find you making a mess of your thighs?”

Your eyes widen as you glance down toward the boy below you.

Asher merely stares right back up at you, his long lashes fluttering as he seems to wait for something.

You aren’t sure what.

“Answer me, sugar.”

“I don’t…I don’t know,” you admit airily, and Harry hums.

“Then what do you propose I do, hm? Hard to take care of you when I’m so far away.”

Your throat seems to have gone dry.

“Could have you touch yourself for me and talk you through it like we always do,” he muses. “But I think that would be too easy, wouldn’t it? And after the way you’ve behaved, I don’t think it’s fair.”

You feel the way your body has begun to slip into that familiar, needy state of submission. The way his words—his threats—alone are doing more for you than your own hands ever could.

“I think you need to earn my forgiveness, mama,” Harry murmurs. “And I think you need to earn Asher’s, too.”

You could practically melt through the sofa as the idea overwhelms you. Consumes you. Breeds a home in your mind, and your stomach, and your cunt.

You aren’t sure where this side of Harry is coming from but you aren’t about to question it. You know he’d never allow Asher to see you in such a state if he didn’t fully trust him.

And that itself makes you feel safe.

“What do you say, hm?” he continues in your ear, and you grip onto the phone so tight, your knuckles go white. “Gonna let Asher take care of you for me?”

He’s giving you an out. Allowing you to decide what you’re truly comfortable with.

He’s giving you…control.

And it makes your stomach flip.

“Yes,” you whisper. “If that’s what you want.”

He makes a noise that sounds like a mix between adoration and pain. “Oh, my precious girl. Always know how to make Daddy happy, hm?”

The use of the more dominant nickname inspires a soft whine to bleed from the back of your throat. He rarely ever uses that term, and when he does…it’s because he knows you need that extra push.

And since he can’t be here…you figure this is his attempt.

“You do,” he tells you next. “Always make me so happy. Bet you’ll make Asher really happy, too. Can you be good for him, honey? Can you trust that he’ll take care of you for me?”

“Yes,” you say again, growing a bit more desperate as you gaze at the aforementioned man, anxious to know what Harry has in store.

“Good,” Harry says, and you hear a bit of shuffling on his end before he continues. “Want you to do something for me, okay? Want you to keep the phone to your ear. M’gonna be right here the whole time, is that understood? You are not to drop this phone.”

You nod again, forgetting about the way he can’t see, and when he’s met with silence, he seems to assume you’ve agreed.

“All right,” he chuckles. “Want you to give him a little nod for me, okay? Let him know you’re ready.”

Feeling slightly dizzy, you meet Asher’s eye and gingerly begin to move your head up and down.

Catching on to this signal, Asher shoots you a reassuring smile before reaching out to grasp onto your thighs and guide your legs further apart.

You momentarily tense in his touch before feeling how…gentle he is. How relaxed. It does an excellent job of luring you into a state of ease yourself as you allow him to move you the way he wants.

“Want you to do something else for me, mama,” Harry adds, calling your attention back. “I want you…to tell me everything that he does…as he does it.”

You suck in a sharp breath.

“Want you to tell me exactly how he’s touching you,” he says. “Want you to tell me where he’s touching you. Want you to tell me how it feels. What it does to you.”

Your head slowly rolls back against the cushions.

“Is that understood?” Harry mumbles. “Can you do that for me?”

“Yes,” you barely manage to reply, too entranced by the way Asher’s large palms are slowly smoothing up your skin.

“Good girl. Now tell me what you’re wearing. Wanna see you in my head while I listen to you come for him.”

You work in a desperate gasp for air. “My…my sundress.”

“Which one?”

“The blue one. With the flowers.”

He makes a noise of approval that makes your face warm. You know it’s his favorite. “Bet you look so pretty, mama. Bet you look so pretty for him right now. Is he touching you yet? Is he helping you feel relaxed?”

Asher’s attention slowly dances down from your face toward the space between your thighs, and you immediately grow hot under the lustful expression he offers you.

Despite yourself, you begin to squirm under his hold, but he’s quick to tighten his grip and shoot you a look of warning.

“He’s…yes,” you tell Harry. “Yes.”

“Yeah? How’s he touching you, honey?”

Your tongue runs over your bottom lip as you look for the words. “My…he’s…he’s pushing my dress up.”

“Where is it now?”

“Hips. It’s…it’s at my hips.”

The cool air makes you shiver but Asher’s warm touch instantly soothes the chill. He readjusts himself onto his knees and settles between your legs, eyeing your covered cunt with absolute intrigue.

You almost want to feel shy…but you know he’s seen you in much more intimate positions before.

“Now what’s he doing?”

The long fingers trailing gingerly across the skin of your upper thighs move to your underwear.

He pauses for only a moment to silently request your permission, and once you’ve nodded, he hooks onto the material and begins dragging it down your body.

You gasp as you squirm upward to make room, and the faint static from the phone reminds you to answer. “He’s…he’s taking my underwear off.”

The fabric is guided to your ankles before it’s easily flicked off and tossed somewhere behind him.

“Are you dripping, mama?”

You don’t have to look to know you are, and you hum your response as Asher pushes your legs back open.

And he looks at you. Looks at the mess you’ve made with a certain reverence that makes your hum turn into a whine.

“Honey, we had a deal. Answer me or he stops.”

“I…I am,” you admit, almost sheepishly. “Yes. Yeah.”

“Bet you look so pretty right now,” he seems to muse to himself. “Are you nice and spread for him?”

Another anxious whimper.

“Yeah? So, how’s he gonna have you, hm? How’s he gonna make it better?”

You look to Asher for the answer, the salacious glint in his eye tells you everything.

He keeps one hand on your hip to make sure the dress stays out of his way while the other moves closer to what you really want.

His thumb gently outstretches for you, tentatively brushing down your clit to ease you into the sensation.

You gasp again, hips attempting to buck up, but he simply tightens his grip and keeps you pressed to the couch.

“He’s…he’s touching me.”

“How, sugar? How’s he touching you?”

“My…he’s…”

For some reason, it feels…wrong to say it out loud and Harry chuckles from his end of the phone as he senses your struggle.

“Is he touching your pretty, little clit, mama?” he says for you. “Is he teasing you?”

You shudder out a sigh as you look down at Asher’s hand. “Yes.”

“How’s it feel, honey?”

“Good…feels good,” you admit softly, and Asher glances up.

“You doing all right, sweetheart?” he murmurs, seeming to want his own verbal confirmation.

You nod quickly, lip between your teeth as he repeats the previous action. “Yes.”

“Do you promise me?”

“Yes. Yes…I promise.”

“Good.”

With that, he switches tactics. He begins running his thumb up and down your already sensitive body, feeling you out, spreading you, making sure to relax you.

You’re growing more and more familiar with his touch and with the ways it’s so drastically different from Harry’s.

Where Harry is practiced and determined, Asher is teasing and gentle. Harry sometimes goes straight for the kill, not wasting any time in getting you to come for him because it’ll only be the first of many.

But Asher has all the time in the world. And you’re beginning to pick up on a few sadistic tendencies from the way he continues to change patterns and rhythms. Every time you start to feel accustomed to one type of touch, he moves to another. Leaving you to start all over.

“Talk to me, sugar,” Harry reminds you, and the rasp in his voice nearly has your eyes rolling back.

“He’s…it feels good,” you tell him, almost breathless.

“Yeah? S’it helping your little ache go away?”

“Mhm,” you whimper, chewing on the inside of your cheek as Asher’s head tilts.

He studies your cunt for a moment, looking for just the right way to touch you, and the focused attention makes the muscles in your stomach tense.

There’s something in his expression you can’t read. Like he’s…mesmerized by you. Mesmerized by your body and the way it reacts. Mesmerized by the thought of what he could do to you.

You exhale an apprehensive huff as the seconds tick by. Anxious to have him continue. To have him give you more.

The soft, languid strokes had been nice but now the coil in your stomach is near painful. And with the way he watches you, the way Harry speaks to you…you aren’t sure how much longer you’re expected to last.

But your writhing catches his attention, and his head snaps up as his eyes meet yours.

“Sweetheart…” he warns.

The living room goes quiet as his unspoken threat lingers in the air.

“What did I tell you about behaving?” Harry reminds you, and you can hear the disappointment slip through the speaker.

“M’sorry,” you whisper. “Sorry, I just…feels so good. Can’t…hurts.”

Your unintelligible mumbling makes Asher smile, and you can hear Harry laugh under his breath.

“Hurts, does it?” he repeats. “Good. Think you deserve to hurt a little, don’t you? After the way you disobeyed me?”

You whine with this, chest heaving as Asher pushes your dress a bit higher.

“Easy, mama,” he murmurs. “You know better. Promised you’d be good for us, yeah?”

“Yes,” you agree. “Yes, I’m sorry.”

“Good girl,” he coos while Asher uses his other hand to push your left thigh further away. “Why don’t you ask him, hm? Why don’t you ask him if he thinks you deserve to have more?”

With your fingers twitching by your side, you cast your focus down to the man on his knees, expression hopeful.

“Please…please?” you ask quietly. “Can you…I just…need…”

Asher smirks to himself as he scoots closer. “Need more?”

You nod fervently as he hums.

“All right,” he agrees. “Gonna need you to be good and take it though, yeah? Need you to trust me.”

“I do,” you pant. “I do. I trust you.”

The smirk turns into a smile as he suddenly takes hold of your hips and drags you closer to the edge of the sofa.

You gasp a bit from the sudden force, the phone slipping slightly from your ear as you work to steady yourself.

And before you can prepare, before you can tell Harry what’s happened, before you can comprehend anything…you feel him.

Feel everything. Feel his long, rough finger easing through your drip before slipping inside.

And it’s so different. He’s so different. His fingers are much longer than Harry’s are, and certainly longer than your own. And he can reach spots in that first touch that Harry can’t.

And he knows this. Knows from the look on your face that you weren’t at all prepared but he seems to enjoy that. Seems to appreciate the way he’s caught you off guard. The way you’ve been forced into this pleasure without so much as a beat.

He curls instantly before pulling back. And he begins this slow, steady pace of dragging himself through, working his touch in and out. Coaxing your body to comply, to stretch, to grow wetter in anticipation.

You arch off the couch in response, one hand grasping onto the cushions beneath in an attempt to find your balance.

“Awfully quiet there, mama,” Harry calls, and you sigh as you press the phone harder to your ear.

“Sorry,” you say again, eyelids feeling heavy under the weight of such ecstasy.

“S’okay, honey. Just wanna hear you. Wanna know he’s doing it right.”

“He…he is,” you whisper as Asher’s attention zeroes in on his movements.

“Yeah? Does it feel good?”

“Yes…feels so good, Har.”

“Good.” Some shuffling. “Tell me what he’s doing.”

Once again, words evade you. It feels crass to describe the actual events taking place and even more uncouth to do it in front of the man touching you.

“He’s…” You swallow thickly and move your eyes to the ceiling. “He’s…touching me.”

“Well, I would hope so,” Harry teases. “How’s he touching you? Need you to paint me a picture, honey.”

You fight the urge to groan. “His…finger.”

“He’s fingering you?”

“…yes.”

“How many?”

“One.”

“Just one? Oh, sugar, you can take more than one, can’t you?”

Your tongue goes numb. “Yes…”

“Yeah? So, ask him.”

A new rush of humiliation washes over you as you’re forced to look back down.

Asher is already grinning, almost as if anticipating your question before you’ve even had the chance to ask it. “Yes, sweetheart?”

Bracing yourself against the sofa, you say, “Can…can you…can I…more?”

If it were any other time, you’d smack yourself on the forehead.

But right now, Asher merely basks in your bashfulness as he uses his other hand to gently stroke the skin of your thigh. An attempt at soothing you and letting you know you’re okay.

“Want another?” he reiterates, and you nod again. “Think you can take more?”

“Yes…yes, I can.”

“How much more, hm? Just one?”

To follow this proposition, he brings a second finger into play, slowly dancing it in beside the first as you still.

And it’s so good. So much better than before and a needy noise breaks free from your mouth as you feel it.

Asher watches your reaction closely, clearly amused with your excitement.

Then, after a few enthralling thrusts to settle you into the rhythm, he says, “How about two?”

A third finger is added, nestling in next to the others, and forcing you to accommodate for a larger stretch.

You gasp desperately at the fullness, reveling in such a euphoric burn. And perhaps you’d be worried it’s too much, but he doesn’t allow you such a luxury.

He instantly gets to work on providing you with that familiar pleasure as he begins pumping into you at a faster pace.

It makes your head spin how quickly you begin to feel overwhelmed. How fucking nice it feels. He hits every spot he needs to hit, over and over and over. He knows when to curl, when to slow, when to still himself inside of you. When to tease, when to pursue, when to relax.

And then, he moves his other hand to your clit.

“Are you taking him?” Harry murmurs. “Taking him like the good girl I know you are?”

You nod mutely.

“Know you are. Know you’re being so good for me. Wish I could see you, mama. Wish I could see you come undone for him.”

And you wish he could, too. Want more than anything to have Harry here, in person, as Asher does this.

Not because you feel you need someone else with you but because you know the look on Harry’s face would make everything ten times better.

And you don’t doubt that Asher wouldn’t mind showing off for his boss, too.

“Want you to say my name, darling,” Harry requests next. “While he makes you come, I want you to say my fucking name. Do you hear me? Not his, not anybody else’s. Just mine. Want you to tell me you’re mine.”

You moan your agreement as your head drops back, fingers curling around the handle of the phone until it almost stings.

You’re so close. So fucking close to finding that sweet release and Asher is determined to make sure you find it. To make you feel it, make you feel everything.

And you do. You do feel everything.

But more importantly…you feel him.

“Harry,” you breathe through a whine, desperately pleading with him for something only Asher can give you. “Please…”

“I know, mama. I know,” he replies. “M’right here. Gonna feel so much better.”

The pressure against your clit increases as Asher strokes his thumb in calculated patterns.

And just when it’s beginning to rise up at that peak…he suddenly stops.

Stops, pulls out, and leaves you untouched and unsatisfied.

You choke on a dejected wail as he leans back and begins taking off his nice jacket, popping the buttons free one by one.

You sit there, nerves tingling and body buzzing, as he slips the material down his arms and tosses it onto the sofa beside you.

And that’s when you see it.

His gun.

Sitting snugly inside the holster strapped to his chest, the black straps draping down his white dress shirt and effortlessly calling attention to the dangerous weapon.

Your breath hitches when you see it, but he doesn’t seem to notice as he begins rolling the sleeves to his elbows.

But you notice. Of course you notice. You always notice guns now, despite how normalized they’ve become in your life.

It’s not strange that he would be wearing it. In fact, you don’t think you’ve ever seen him without a gun on his person. Same for Harry.

But while you are a little shocked…you’re also…enamored?

Truthfully, you aren’t sure what you feel as he situates himself and moves back between your thighs.

Then…his eyes trail up.

He takes in your distracted state, studying you momentarily before realizing where you attention lies.

He looks down as well, glancing over his gun as he begins to piece together your reaction.

Rather amused, he throws you a smug smile, and reaches for the weapon, pulling it free from its holder.

With that, he offers it to you.

“Wanna hold it for me?” he asks softly, and your eyebrows raise.

You hesitate, eyeing the gun with suspicion and intrigue.

“Hold it for me,” he repeats, and it’s no longer a question but an order. “Right here, on your thigh.”

He pats your leg to accompany his request, letting you know exactly where he’d like it placed, and you take a deep breath.

Cautiously, you release your grip on the couch so you can take hold of the object being handed to you.

It’s heavy. Slightly warm from being pressed against his body and hidden beneath his coat. Slim. Molding to your hand as if it were made for it.

Working to be as gentle as you can, you place it onto your thigh, taking a moment to get used to the feel.

The barrel is pointed toward the other side of the room, away from either of you, but Asher doesn’t like this.

Instead, he spins it around until the barrel is pointed directly at him.

Your heart begins to race.

“Don’t worry,” he whispers, taking hold of your other leg to give it a reassuring squeeze. “S’just a little more fun this way, hm?”

And maybe it is to him but you don’t argue as he brings his soaked fingers back to your equally soaked cunt.

“Did Asher give you his gun, mama?” Harry asks in your ear, and you’re reminded again that he’s not actually here.

“Yes,” you tell him, the urge to see him a little stronger now.

“Yeah? Like having that kind of power, don’t you?”

You consider this for a moment as Asher eases those three fingers back inside of you, instantly pulling you back up that mountain.

“Yes,” you gasp, hips bucking up as the gun teeters on your leg. “Fuck, yes.”

“Knew you did,” he hums, almost appreciatively. “My dirty fucking girl. Wanted to be punished, didn’t you?”

“Yes,” you whimper again, both in response to his question and to what Asher’s doing to you.

“All weekend, just pushed my buttons, didn’t you? Wanted to see how far I’d let you go?”

You curse between gritted teeth.

“Knew I couldn’t make it better. But you didn’t want me to, did you? Wanted it to be Asher. Wanted him to know how badly you missed me, hm?”

“Harry,” you whine, attention devoted to the man between your legs as he mimics his previous rhythm. Curl, press, pinch, thrust. “Please…”

“What, honey? What do you need?”

“You,” you say, without hesitation, although you aren’t sure which one of them you’re really talking to. “You, please…”

“Yeah? What do you need me to do?”

“Let me,” you whisper, chest rising and falling with labored breaths the closer you get. “Let me come, Har, please…”

“Should I? Should I let you? Do you think you deserve it?”

“Want to. Want to deserve it.”

“Oh, sugar. Daddy wants you to come, too. Want to hear you come for me.”

You rotate between gasping and panting and moaning and pleading for something—anything—as Asher works you closer.

He smirks to himself and leans in, lips tentatively pressing to your inner thigh as if to taunt you with his mouth. With what could have been.

You wouldn’t mind feeling his tongue but the fact that he hasn’t used it suggests Harry explicitly told him not to.

And you aren’t about to complain about what you are being given because the kiss alone does wonders for you.

“Harry,” you whimper again, so close you can taste it.

“That’s right,” he says. “M’right here. You’re mine, aren’t you? Say it.”

You groan as you feel the end approach. As you feel the beginnings of release. “Yours…I’m yours.”

“Always,” Harry growls, and the animalistic reply goes straight to your cunt. “Fucking always. Say it again.”

“Yours,” you repeat. “Always yours. Just yours. Fuck—”

“You gonna come for me?”

“Yes…yes. M’so close—”

“Yeah? Then do it. Right now, mama. Be good for us and come.”

You aren’t sure how he manages to command you in such a way. How he can tell you when to come and you immediately do it.

But you do. You come for him. For both of them, the orgasm ripping through each muscle and fiber of your being as you mewl Harry’s name and relax into Asher’s hold.

It’s everything. Hard, and heavy, and endless. You lose track of time, of consciousness, of understanding as it rolls over you.

And just before you can come down, you hear Harry’s next demand:

“Again.”

Confused, and slightly off-kilter, you pant, “What?”

“Ask him to make you come again,” Harry repeats. “Beg him to overstimulate you. Beg him to make it hurt. Make you cry until you just can’t take it anymore.”

The premise throws you, your already sensitive core throbbing as Asher’s ministrations begin to slow.

“Harry…” you plead but he tsks.

“Again.”

Swallowing a rather bratty groan, you meet Asher’s eye. “Don’t…don’t stop. Please, I…just…can’t…”

You’re already so frustrated with yourself, you might start crying, but sweet Asher only grins.

“Want another, sweetheart?” he coos, pressing his thumb into your swollen clit. “Want one more?”

You nod quickly, thankful for his understanding, and he smirks to himself before getting to work.

This one doesn’t take nearly as much time or effort. You’re too pent up and aroused. Each touch or brush or twist of his fingers inside of your pussy makes you jolt. Makes you writhe and squirm and cry out.

The gun slips from your thigh with all the jostling but you don’t mind. You don’t even have the time to feel nervous as the next one approaches, dragging you by your ankles to the finish line.

“Good,” Asher hums, and the easy praise makes your skin grow hot. “So good, sweetheart. Know you can do it. That’s it, give it to me.”

“You heard him,” Harry adds. “Fucking give it to him, mama.”

The instruction from both men shoves you into the second, and you could argue a third slips in right after.

Because the knowledge of what they do to you is what truly makes it. The knowledge that these men can ask you to do anything they want and you’ll do it. That they’ve got you. They protect you. They live to keep you safe and make you happy.

They live…for this.

As promised, Harry’s name is painted across your tongue as it happens. And Asher remains between your legs through every moment, all the way until the end. Until you’ve finally relaxed once more and caught your breath.

With muscles like jelly, the phone begins to slip, and you struggle to keep Harry in your ear.

But Asher rushes to help, straightening up from his knees to take your other hand, and press a kiss to your palm.

“That’s it,” he coaxes. “You’re all right. Just breathe for me, yeah? Did so good, sweetheart.”

You merely nod along, unable to truly understand what he’s saying to you, and this makes him chuckle.

Then, he takes hold of your other wrist and guides the phone back up, holding it there so you can talk without having to use your own strength.

“Still with me, honey?” Harry asks, and you hum. “Did so good for me. Always want to take care of my girl even when I’m gone. Do you understand that?”

“Yes,” you whisper.

“Don’t like leaving you. Don’t like knowing you miss me. Hurts me just as much as it hurts you.”

“I know…”

“Good. And you trust that I’ll always come back to you, yeah? Trust that I’d never put you in danger.”

“Yes….”

“And you feel safe with him, yeah? Does he make you feel safe, mama?”

Your lashes flutter as you look up at the tall man hovering above you. “Yes.”

“Good. ’Cause you are, honey. Always safe with us. We’ll do anything for you. And we’ll always be here to take care of you. In any way you need.”

“….I know.”

“Okay. Then I don’t ever want to hear that you’ve disobeyed me again,” he finishes. “Do I make myself clear?”

“Mhm.”

“Attagirl,” he chuckles. “Now…Asher’s gonna take you to the bath. Want you to clean yourself up and relax for me, all right? I’ll be home tomorrow.”

“Promise?” you murmur hopefully.

“I fucking promise. Be good for him until I get home, yeah?”

Asher smiles.

“I will,” you agree, cheeks warming under his kind gaze. “Promise.”

“Good.”

You grin.

“’Cause we’ve got quite a bit to discuss when I get home.”

Next Part:

~ Theirs* (Pt. 4)

Previous Part:

~ Ours* (Pt. 2)

~ Full Mine Masterlist

~ Other Harry Blurbs

~ Full Masterlist

2K notes · View notes

youthguk · 1 year

Text

Follow the White Rabbit | jjk (m)

pairing: idol! jungkook x idol! reader

genre: smut, idols au.

words: 8.2k

summary: Jungkook never involves with other idols, valuing his reputation above everything else. That's until he learns about you. But when his attempt to get closer to you falls short because of false rumors, you're determined to make it up to him.

author’s note: all characters are 18+(!); this is a stand alone story. however, i do have some ideas for more parts, so let me know if anyone would be interested in more parts ♡

“Every adventure requires a first step.”

Jungkook was known for his pristine reputation amongst other idols. And that came with certain drawbacks.

Being an idol meant being watched. Always. He had to learn it the hard way. But he learned his lesson long ago and now no one would ever catch Jungkook’s pretty shiny eyes darting even with the slightest interest in other groups' direction, especially girl groups. He was sick of that and decided to protect his peace by playing by the rules of the idol industry and fans, scrutinizing his every move, and craving to know more about his personal life.

Jungkook distanced himself from everything that could disturb his peace. Surely, he is showing up to events, music shows, and year-end award shows with his group, eyes only on members and fans. He is here to do his job, and enjoy performance; he is here for music, not for drama. Jungkook is now called “heartless” and “brat” by his peers; every time some newly debuted idols approach him backstage — he politely bows back to them, not willing to maintain a conversation. Jeon Jungkook is pretty content with his reputation, they may call him “arrogant” or even “spoiled maknea”, he is not here to be liked.

He is not here to make any new friends, he doesn’t need them, it's as simple as that. Jungkook doesn’t remember when was the last time that he even bothered to check the new groups. Well, of course, that was until the popularity of your group “Bunnies” became so big that it was just impossible for him to escape from you.

“Hyung, what’s the deal with…what was their name…Bunnies?” Finally, Jungkook gives in and decides to refer to Namjoon who, unlike him, always keeps up with new trends and faces in their industry. “Obnoxious name for a group, by the way,” he adds.

“Are you asking because of ____ ?” Namjoon teases his favorite maknae.

“What? No…Who’s that?” Jungkook regrets asking as soon as the words flew out of his mouth. He is, insensibly to himself, crossing the line that he drew himself. Of course, he doesn’t care who you are, he was just curious about your group for a moment.

“Oh, well, she’s the leader of Bunnies,” Jungkook doesn’t know you (and has no desire to get acquainted with you) and yet he can’t help but pity you. Leader of Bunnies. That must be hard for you. He chuckles at his thoughts which don’t go unnoticed by his own leader, “What’s so funny?”

“Sorry, hyung, but the name is ridiculous,” he shrugs and when met with a disapproving stare from his leader, Jungkook compliantly adds, “But hey, good for them, right? They even caught my attention. Well, it was impossible to not notice, I mean, their song was playing in every damn convenience store that I entered this past few months.”

“You should check the credits to the song.”

Jungkook doesn’t ask why and simply follows Namjoon’s suggestion. His eyes wander on his screen, gaze drawn to the same name repeated both in “Lyrics by” and “Composed by”.

“That’s the leader…You were talking about her, ____, right?” And when Namjoon nods, Jungkook’s eyebrows are drawn together in confusion. “Why did you think I was interested because of her in particular?”

Namjoon heavily sighs, stretching his arms wearily, “Of course, our Jungkookie is all grown-up now and no one deserves his attention,” he playfully pats Jungkook’s head, knowing very well how annoying their golden maknae finds that. “She just mentioned you in one of their interviews and now it went viral, just like everything that Bunnies do.”

Yet again Jungkook cringes at the mention of your group’s name and, for some obscure reason, takes a mental note to check out that interview.

_________

You were the oldest in your group and the most experienced one. When agreeing to debut in Bunnies you were promised by the company that you will simply be able to do what you already love the most — writing and composing songs while being able to perform. You never liked the public attention and criticism that comes with the territory, but as your producers and PR agents assured you, all that unwanted public attention will go past you. After all, you were the oldest and not the center of the group. Which was supposed to guarantee you a somewhat calm and untroubled career (as much as it was possible in this case, of course).

“Welcome Bunnies!” The host of a variety show addresses your group excitedly. Nowadays, it was pure luck for any TV program to get your group to visit them, you were booked and busy. Literally. You don’t remember with what exact mindset you were getting yourself into this and what were you expecting from your group, but this level of success was unexpected, even for your company.

Thanks to your introverted nature, your beloved members, who in a span of just a few months were all like little sisters to you, took most of the talking responsibility on themselves, leaving you only serious and tricky questions for discussion.

“So, who would you call your celebrity crush or even ideal type?” The interviewer asks and all the eyes of your members fall on you, pleading for help.

“Wow, no one has ever asked us that before!” You chuckle as the audience conformably bursts into laughter and you try to stall some more time before you come up with an appropriate and least provoking answer. “Well, I’d say it’s Jeon Jungkook sunbaenim, right?” You turn to your members, looking for support. But you know you already gave the wrong answer when you decided to respond with honesty. “He’s very talented and achieved so much, I always looked up to him, and still after our debut, there’s so much to learn from him.” You blurt it all at once out, not sure why you even went with so many details on your long-term crush on one of the most untouchable idols. You heavily exhale in relief, expecting a change of topic.

“So, you would date him?” The interviewer decides to not give you an easy time. Surprise.

“Well, your question was on ideal type,” you flash the audience with your elegant smile which they return with applause and you finally feel free when the next question has nothing to do with crushes and dating.

That day you come back to your shared dorm with members, tiredly plopping on your favorite couch.

“How bad was that, be honest,” you almost threaten Rinjea with your discerning stare.

“It was just fine, stop it, unnie,” you are pretty sure you’ve heard that for the 10th time but it still doesn’t feel like the truth. “Plus, Jungkook is like the most unbothered and arrogant person, he probably will never even hear about this interview.” She brushes you off, again, but this time it works and you loosen up a little.

The worst that can happen is being made fun of by your friends and that was the last thing on your mind. You scoff to yourself, were you really worried about Jeon Jungkook watching your interview?

As time goes by, the worries vanish into thin air. Even though your secret crush is not so secret anymore, the general public discusses that with tenderness on how bold you were to confess that.

Besides, there were no chances of you randomly bumping into Jungkook as BTS stopped performing on music shows. The only place for you to meet him is the upcoming year-end award shows, but by the time you start attending them with your group, your little awkward moment in the interview is long forgotten by you.

However, the whole “being teased by your peers” thing happens anyway as on one of your very rare days off you find time to finally catch up with your only friend in this industry (besides your members, of course), Harin, who was not only a member of a group that debuted a year before you and a great artist but also a part-time personal provider of gossips on K-pop industry for you.

“No, but why on earth you mentioned Jeon Jungkook out of all people!” She exclaims and you almost jump in your seat looking around you. It’s a Sunday morning; the cafe that you both decided to meet at is almost empty but you still feel unnerved mentioning any names.

“Why not? I always liked him,” as you say that you are reminded by the disbelief on Harin’s face that you’ve never actually mentioned that to her before. “And nothing controversial about appreciating other musicians’ talent.”

“Talent my ass,” Harin scoffs, shaking her head. “You really know nothing about him, ____? ”

“I don’t understand.”

“Of course, our little naive ____,” she lets out a long sigh of pity, leaving you absolutely puzzled at this whole situation. “Let’s put it that way, he’s known for his promiscuous ways, if you know what I mean.”

“I don’t understand,” you reiterate yourself, drawing your brows together, growing angry with your friend. You never idealized your favorite artists, but this sounded more like some cheap gossip, and you couldn’t stand that. “If anything, I’ve heard the opposite about him and his members.”

“Well, that’s all a facade,” she folds her arms across her chest sensing the lack of trust. “And if I told you that I experienced that first-hand, you wouldn’t believe that either?” She snorts.

“You’ve slept with Jungkook?” Something between a high-pitched squeal and a whisper leaves your mouth. You could’ve never imagined this conversation would lead to this. And you hate the little prickle of jealousy and disappointment from this unwanted discovery.

“Hah, he wishes,” your friend scoffs, pure amusement lingering on her face now that you are more invested in this conversation. “He tried to get into my pants, but I totally turned him down. I mean it’s like an indicator of no self-worth if you get involved with dudes like him.” You process Harin’s words wide-eyed, all of that still sounds as if about someone else, but you can’t naively deny that. “I guess they’re just like everyone else, using their status to get to girls and then run their mouths about them, ruining poor naive girls’ reputations.”

And that was your last straw. You knew you didn’t have the right to judge other people’s personal life but if Harin’s words were true, that was terribly disappointing for you.

“I can’t believe that… that’s atrocious,” this conversation leaves a bitter taste of disappointment on your tongue that you’re not sure will be able to get rid of any time soon. “And I’ve never even heard about it!”

“You’re lucky you know me and can count on me warning you about douchebags like him.”

_________

Jungkook doesn’t remember when exactly he started falling into that rabbit hole. First, he watched the infamous interview, chuckling to himself smugly. Next, he listened to your group’s debut mini-album, replaying with special attentiveness songs in which you participated in the creation process.

It’s been two weeks now, and his “for you” page was flooding with you. It was almost unbearable, and Jungkook would gladly get mad at someone if he wasn’t the one to blame. Well, your songs were good, to say the least. And in every performance, his gaze was automatically searching for you. There was something about you that was exceptionally enthralling to Jungkook; maybe it was how poised you always were, carrying yourself with elegance, while your younger members were always wild and loud. They could afford to be reckless and careless, as you were taking a lot of responsibilities on yourself.

Jungkook was suddenly intrigued by you, wondering what type of person you actually were, as you never gave in any details about yourself except for your love for music and performing. He couldn’t explain it, but he had this confidence that you two would easily get along.

“I bet our Jungkookie knows all Bunnies’ songs by heart now,” Jimin teases him while taking a break from practicing, noticing the song that is currently on repeat in Jungkook’s headphones.

Jungkook closes his eyes, trying to ease exhaustion from hours and hours of practice for the upcoming big performance that they’re preparing for the award show. As he immerses into the song in his headphones (which is by pure coincidence written by you), he suddenly lights up with a genius, almost cute, idea (in his opinion). What if he approaches you tomorrow backstage and says hi? It wouldn’t hurt anyone, right? He hasn’t done that since… he can’t even remember, but surely he could try to get to know you and thank you for your kind words and even profess his own new-found love for your music. He is so intrigued by that idea and thrilled with the anticipation of your reaction, that he feels a sudden rush of energy.

Oh, he can’t wait to see.

_________

To Jungkook’s frustration, his plan utterly fails during the first day of the award ceremony; for some reason, you are always out of his sight and when he can finally approach you — your members are right by your side. The same pattern follows the next day, and the day after that.

Jungkook starts growing impatient with you, even though he knows it’s out of your control — you are a leader, after all, and you can’t let your group be on their own. And you are absolutely oblivious to the fact that Jungkook wants to have a tete-a-tete moment with you. At some point, he even wonders if there’s a chance that you’re deliberately avoiding him, as he can’t catch even a fleeting glance from you. Maybe you’re just shy and careful, he calms himself, and in that case, he must meet you in person and reassure you that everything is fine.

It seems that luck was in his favor this time, as your group members were asked to leave the ceremony early for the reasons unknown to him, leaving you all alone. Jungkook can only pray that all his secretive peeking at you wasn’t captured by any fan cams. And when the ceremony is coming to an end, he notices how you start leaving earlier, not waiting for the usual curtain call where everyone gets on stage and says final goodbyes to the audience.

Maybe you were anxious about big crowds, especially now, when you were all by yourself. Oh, how Jungkook wishes he would have been able to keep you company. While you walk through the seats, Jungkook manages to steal a glance at you without the usual precautions, as everyone’s attention is on you now anyway.

You look beautiful, as always, he thinks to himself. Something devilish in that white short dress that you are confidently rocking tonight. He could watch you and the way you elegantly carry yourself all day, attentively studying your enchanting features. Oh, how Jungkook wishes he could stare at you freely but as soon as you walk behind the stage, he forces himself to shift his attention back to the stage, nervously shaking his leg.

After you, a couple of other idols are following your example, rushing backstage before the official closing of the ceremony and Jungkook deems that’s a perfect opportunity. He throws something about promising to return soon behind him, to his members, and races backstage. His heart frantically hammering against his chest left him wondering when was the last time that he felt so free and alive.

_________

You enter the waiting room of your group, but as the girls had to leave earlier, you are left in solitude which you, quite frankly, don’t mind. It’s the last event of this year that you had to attend. December was insanely filled with work; you would have never imagined that this one day could have been your life. You still can’t grasp if debuting was the right decision; it was hard being a trainee and life was getting only harder and harder now. Well, this is just life and work that you chose for yourself.

While you were caught in your thoughts, the sound of opening a door goes almost unnoticed by you. But then it is followed immediately by some coughing, almost begging for your attention. You frown at the sudden intrusion and turn around.

There he was. Jeon Jungkook himself awkwardly standing in your group’s waiting room, nervously pulling at the back of his neck. What the hell? You have never seen him this up close, and god was he the most beautiful human being that you’ve ever seen? Easily. You can’t take your eyes off him, mesmerized by the way his in-life beauty makes you think that photos don’t do him justice by failing to capture his true beauty.

“Hello…I guess?” he’s searching for your eyes but instead, you grant him a respectful bow, which makes him chuckle with a clear disappointed undertone to it. “No need for that, please.”

At first, when his nervousness took over him, you were caught off guard — that wasn’t aligning with all the rumors that you heard about him. Maybe this was his way to charm you? How many girls has he tricked with that slick image of shyness?

You froze at your place, perplexed by his words. Well, what is he here for then? “Sorry, Jungkook sunbaenim.”

“Just call me Jungkook,” he heavily sighs, eyes wandering around the room.

“You can take a seat… Jungkook,” you tentatively motion to him; the awkward silence fills the room.

You try to suppress all your emotions. You can only hope that your stiffness comes across to him as tranquility. It took a lot of self-control, after all, it was still Jeon Jungkook in front of you. It will take some time for you to fully drift his image in your head to the one that adheres to the disappointing reality.

Jungkook scoffs, a little bit irritated with your covert indifference to him. “You weren’t this shy dropping my name in interviews,” he casually states matter-of-factly.

Your eyes widen at his sudden passive aggression. Whatever he was expecting from you, you disappointed him. But if anything, you believe that you are the one who has a right to be angry at him after discovering frustrating details about his personal life.

“And I truly meant that,” you habitually slightly bow your head which irritates him a little bit. Yet you still don’t understand what he’s so upset about.

“Doesn’t seem like that,” he is still standing by the door, now confidently leaning on it. “More like just another attention-seeker, using our group’s name to promote yourself.”

His cruel and baseless accusation strikes you painfully.

“I’m sorry but you have no right to blame me like that,” you pause for a second, trying to catch your breath as you hear your voice cracking from despair, “and I don’t understand why you are being so mean.”

You see Jungkook’s tensed features soften slightly, a look of concern flourishing on his face from your shaky voice. “Fine, sorry, don’t know what’s gotten into me,” his voice now calming and soothing which resembles more his angelic singing voice that you adore so much. “I was very excited to see you in person, couldn’t wait for the right moment… so I decided to not wait any longer.”

His sudden confession and change of tone leave you utterly perplexed, why would Jeon Jungkook want to meet you? If anything, it should’ve been the other way around. “Me?” You point at yourself, still baffled by his words. “Why would you…”

“I somehow became a big fan, I guess,” you quirk an eyebrow at his “somehow” in dismay, but don’t interrupt. “You are a great artist, your songs…can’t stop listening to them,” he blurts it all out at once, a shade of nervousness back in his voice.

You look at him shocked, how is he telling you all these nice words that you dreamed of telling him? The world seems unreal now.

“I don’t know what to say…I just…thank you very much,” you bow again despite his previous plea. “And I can’t believe that you are saying this because what I said during that interview, I truly meant that. You are one of the reasons why I decided to pursue singing.”

Professing your gratitude to Jungkook and BTS was one of your dreams and you couldn’t miss this opportunity. However, the familiar tension and awkwardness were back between you two.

It’s clear to you now how Jungkook was trying to get rid of that, but you were too resistant to talk casually with him. Not only because of respect: whether he liked it or not, he still was your senior and it was not easy to just treat him as your equal. But as much as you tried, Harin’s words about him were getting to your head. If everything Harin’s said was true, then he definitely wasn’t the best person to get close to. You would never want to do anything that could somehow damage your group’s reputation. It wouldn’t be fair to girls.

Of course, you don’t even assume that he would be interested in you in that way, but that wasn’t particularly your concern. You knew yourself, and you knew very well that if he tried to make a move on you, you simply couldn’t resist him. And that was scaring you the most. So the least you can do is to stop whatever he’s trying to initiate before it’s too late.

“_____, please, I really appreciate your words but I was hoping we could drop all these formalities,” his lips are lightly curled in a smile and your heart skips a beat at that sight.

You cast a glance at his lightened up face, his doe eyes sparkling with sincerity. Your heart aches, how could Jungkook standing in front of you be the same person who Harin warned you about? After all, maybe he is genuine with you now and has no ulterior motives.

“If it’s because of the setting,” he points around, “then we could meet in more casual circumstances,” your eyes widen in shock, anticipating his next words. “We can hang out when both of our schedules match,” he suggests innocently and you feel your heart shrinking. Harin was right.

“You can’t be serious,” you mutter, shaking your head. “I can’t believe that.”

Jungkook looks at you worriedly, taking a step closer to you. “I don’t understand, what’s wrong?”

You chuckle at his deceiving concern, whatever role he’s playing now, he’s too good, you almost feel ashamed for accusing him of having bad intentions, but you have to set aside your naivety and face the truth. “I can’t believe I am a fan of someone like you.”

“What’s wrong, I don’t understand. You said on national TV that you liked me, and now you act like me suggesting to get to know each other is a crime,” he raises his voice, and you can clearly hear that he’s hurt.

“And you thought it was an open invitation?” You cross your hands. Only a month ago you would give anything for a little conversation with Jungkook, and now, you were arguing with him, fully enraged. “Besides, that was before I learned about your true nature.”

“Oh…that’s interesting,” Jungkook teasingly claims, making himself comfortable while plopping on the only couch in your dressing room. “Tell me more about it,” to your surprise, he became uplifted for no particular reason, his full attention dedicated to you only.

“I know that you…” you’re startled by his attentive gaze, eyeing you up and down. And how are you supposed to formulate why exactly you’re upset with him? “I know you unabashedly use your status to get to…to use girls and then spread misinformation that ruins their reputation,” you pause to catch a breath. “You’re insane if you think I would ever get involved with someone like you.”

To your astonishment, he starts laughing leaving you dumbfounded. Jungkook leans his head back, not able to contain the laughter. “This one is definitely entertaining.”

“What do you mean ‘this one’?”

“The nonsense that you just told me, was quite amusing. Haven’t heard that type of thing in a long time,” he reproaches you while tilting his head to the side.

“Nothing funny about treating other people so disgracefully,” you still stand your ground. “I’ve heard it from a reliable source,” you sound ridiculous to yourself but you don’t think it would be wise to say Harin’s name. What if he is actually dangerous?

“As a fan you surely have little faith in me” he chuckles bitterly. “I shouldn’t have come here,” he mumbles to himself, the disappointment and pain in his voice almost breaking you. He tightens his lips together, jaw clenched. You know confronting him was the right thing to do. But why does it still hurt so badly?

“If that was your intention all along, then yes. This was a mistake. ”

————

The bitter aftertaste of meeting Jungkook doesn’t leave you even after a week. You’re torn inside, feeling both guilty for causing him pain and angry for deceiving you and other millions of fans that he’s a nice person. Of course, he didn't owe anyone anything but it still made you cry yourself to sleep for several nights. You were constantly rewinding your conversation with him before sleep, trying to hold on to every little detail in your memory.

Harin turned out to be right — not that you doubted your friend’s words for a second — but still, Jungkook’s genuine disappointment with you felt more personal than just a guy being turned down from getting laid. And it was driving you insane, making you question your decision more and more. A torturing feeling that there was some missing part to this whole story that you couldn’t get hold of.

You desperately needed to discuss it with someone; your members never found out about what happened that day, and you weren’t ready to reveal his true nature to more people.

Fortunately, during New Year’s week off, your schedule matched with Harin’s and you decided to invite her to your dorm, making it easier to discuss everything without filtering your conversations.

“How were your holidays, tell me all about it,” you ask, as you both sit on the floor in your room, a bunch of food and snacks presented in front of you that you barely managed to save from your younger members’ eyes.

“Well…” Harin starts grinning happily, making you excited for the upcoming story. “Guess who actually got to kiss someone special on Midnight.”

Your eyes widen, finally, some good news to talk about!

“Girl, good for you!” You nudge your friend teasingly. “But with whom?”

“Seojun from XTQ1,” she squeals from excitement and you try to seem delighted to match her energy. That name doesn’t ring a bell, and you’re not sure if you have ever heard about that group either.

“I mean, who would have thought, right?” She continues to introduce you to her love story and you were truly happy for Harin.“Only a week before that I embarrassingly tried to hit on the one and only Jeon Jungkook,” Harin chuckles as if not believing that she actually did that.

Her little remark doesn’t catch you immediately. And when the meaning of her words finally hits you, your heart sinks to your stomach. “Wait, what?” You almost whisper, eyes reverted on your friend.

“But everything happens for a reason, see? Seojun is such a nice guy, I’m so lucky,” Harin is quick to appease you.

“No-no, what you said about Jungkook,” you look at her carefully, scared to hear the truth. “You said he was trying to get to hit on you. What happened to that story?”

“Oh, about that…”Harin’sbody tensed immediately at your question. You see her contemplating in her head, as she presses her lips together. “Sorry, I don’t know why I decided to blatantly lie…” She finally gives in and you're left petrified. This is exactly what’s been troubling you since meeting Jungkook in person. “I guess, my ego got bruised by his rejection so badly that I wanted to put him in a bad light,” a nervous laugh escapes her mouth.

“Harin! But how could you?” You almost scream, looking at your friend bug-eyed. “It’s not just bad-mouthing, you made it sound like it was the absolute truth…it could have caused a lot of trouble if you said that to someone else!”

“I mean, I still wasn’t that careless, right?” She forces a laugh while met with disbelief plastered on your face. “I ranted to you out of all people, because I knew you are not the one to gossip around and you are only friends with me,” she says proudly as if that makes this whole situation better. “My delusional nonsense is always safe with you,” still no hint of remorse in her voice.

Somehow, Harin finds this situation awfully funny and it only makes you even more furious. How could she be so reckless with her words?

“Oh, come on! Don’t be so angry with me,” your friend pleads, growing impatient with the sudden mood change of your conversation that was threatening to ruin your sleepover. “No one would even believe me, everyone knows these dudes are crazy careful, and wouldn’t approach anyone even at gunpoint to not cause even a little rumor.”

Her words cut you, a wave of guilt and shame taking over you. There’s a prick of betrayal as you realize how easily you trusted your only friend in this industry. And it scares you how naturally she lied to you and how facilely you’ve let that lie take over you and hurt Jungkook’s feelings. Now his reaction was making sense to you. And it breaks your heart to know that it was your reaction to his genuine attempt to get to know you.

________

Jungkook was no stranger to ridiculous rumors and false accusations; both he and his group members have faced that since their careers started taking off. But then you, the person who he was approaching with nothing but sincerity, blamed him for things that he never did, and his heart broke a little. Your disappointment and frustration with him were his last straw. Again, he didn’t know exactly what he was expecting from that meeting with you. Maybe just a nice conversation that could have led to a good friendship and then, maybe, to something more.

His personal life was almost non-existent at this point. Not only for the sake of maintaining this whole clean and noble reputation. Jungkook was not very fond of one-night stands and was a hopeless romantic, waiting for his one true love. Maybe it was childish but no one could keep him from believing in that. But his relationships could never withstand the crashing waves of his insanely busy schedule and lifestyle. Not something that he could hold against his ex-girlfriends, no matter how many times anyone claimed with their whole chest to be understanding and assuring him that they knew what they were getting into, no one could be prepared for this. He understands that.

It’s a little bit embarrassing for him to admit to himself that he might have had some hopes for you. He felt like you two could have clicked and understood each other like no one else. Maybe he just fell victim to some idea of you and now he was just feeling the same disappointment as you’ve felt when discovering the stupid rumors about him?

What’s even worse, Jungkook got reminded, once again, that people liked talking behind his back for no reason, villainizing him at any given chance. After a week, he forced himself to go back to listening to your music. It was still reminding him about sorrowful wasted chances, but he learned to brush it off. After all, it was neither his nor your fault. You didn’t know him personally and weren’t obliged to blindly trust him.

Just when Jungkook feels like the wound doesn’t hurt him anymore, he receives a strange notice from his manager which invokes a sudden fluttering in his stomach.

“Her company suggested for you two to film a short collab video with their dance,” his manager stated leaving Jungkook in pure shock. “It was ridiculous how bold they were to even propose this, but then we thought it might be beneficial for everyone. Of course, you don’t need this but Bunnies are super trendy in Korea right now, so it won’t hurt you and your group in general for sure.”

“No, I’m not interested,” Jungkook is quick to answer. He knows this must be your company’s idea, desperately trying to monetize on our innocent statement regarding your ‘crush’ on him. He will spare you with his presence.

“Right,” his manager nods understandingly. “I actually declined the offer the first time, but the second time their group’s leader, ____, got on the phone herself, convincing me to give her a chance,” the manager shakes his head, remembering your desperate attempt.

Jungkook freezes at the last words, not believing. And trying his best to not give away his sudden rush of excitement, he’s quick to add. “I think you are right, it won’t hurt me,” and he actually means it. Whatever is the reason behind your unexpected desire to meet with him, it surely can’t make things worse at this point. “Schedule a meeting at my practice room.”

_________

You fidget on your seat while waiting for Jungkook in the practice room at Hybe’s building. Getting here made a lot of fuss, and your managers did a lot of work to get you permission to enter the building as a guest. You were almost sorry to them adding all that stress to their already heavy workload. But you didn’t see any other way for you to apologize to Jungkook. You were determined to do that in person and this excuse of filming a video seemed handy right now. Maybe he will bring an operator or a manager, it would still give you a chance to stay alone with him for some time.

The sound of the door being closed brings you out of your thoughts and you flinch at your seat. Jungkook was standing still at the door, reminding you of your first unfortunate encounter with him. It’s fine, you think to yourself. You will do your best to apologize to him.

You get up from your seat, nervously standing. “Hi,” you raise your hand to wave at him. “Thank you for not turning down this meeting.”

You see him scoff, lips pressed together. He’s hesitant. “I’m just slightly intrigued. Why would you want to meet up with someone like me, again?” He quirked an eyebrow at you.

“Jungkook, I’m very sorry,” you plead, pulling the palms of your hands together. “I shouldn’t have said such stupid things to you. If I could, I’d take that back.”

You didn’t want to mention Harin as it still was your own choice to not only believe those rumors but also accuse Jungkook of them while meeting him for the very first time. But as you watch him fold his arms across his wide chest, you start contemplating. Maybe it was still worth mentioning…

“It doesn’t make things any better but, just so you know, I’ve heard that from a very close friend, I just couldn’t imagine that she would straight up lie to me,” you blurted hoping to see any change in him.

But he only sneers at you, nibbling at his lower lip. “Well, maybe it was all true, then what?”

You are startled by his question but still, make a step towards him. “I know none of that is true, I’m sorry,” you try to emphasize each of your words.

“What if some of it was true?” Jungkook makes several steps forward, reducing the distance between you two drastically.

“What do you mean? I know it’s not,” puzzled with his determination to prove you wrong, you search for his eyes. His gaze now has darkened, doe eyes filled with blazing anticipation.

“What if I told you that your stupid and untrustworthy friend was right about one thing?” He steps forward again, your bodies suddenly at a dangerously short distance from each other.

You sigh feeling the overflowing warmth of his body. What was he doing now? Is this some wicked way of trying to scare you off? You try to retreat, taking a step back but you almost tumble on the sofa behind you but Jungkook quickly catches you, grabbing your forearms.

You feel the heat rushing to your cheeks, hating that it must be so obvious to him how nervous you’re. And well, almost falling on the couch (that you were very well aware of) is probably not making you look confident either.

“Are you scared now?” He smirks, hands still on your arms even though you’re not planning to fall anymore

“Stop asking so many questions,” you snap at him to your own surprise. “I came to apologize but now you decide to live up to my stupid accusation? This is ridiculous.”

“Oh, look how brave you are now,” he dramatically sighs in amusement. “But I said there was one truth to your claims. Can you guess it?” He leans down to you, making it impossible for you to escape his warmth.

“No,” you say blinking up at him, head not thinking straight anymore. “I have no idea what you’re insinuating,” you say honestly. Of course, there’s a stupid hope growing inside of you that he’s interested in you but you try to not let it get to your head. Jeon Jungkook is interested in you? It even sounds ridiculous.

“You were right. I wanted to get to know you because I liked you,” the sharpness of his gaze cuts through the electricity filling the room. You raise your eyebrows, unable to look away from him. “Does that scare you?” His honey-laced voice is like music to your ears, how could you resist?

“No,” you are startled by the firmness in your own voice. He's taken aback by your response just as much as you are, searching for a hint of doubt in your eyes. And you know that there’s none when you feel his thumb caressing your arm; a simple gesture to which you feel your stomach tightening.

“Really?” He raises an eyebrow at you, but you know he doesn’t need an answer anymore. “Is that because now you know that it all was only for you?” He leans closer to your face, his warm breath brushing your skin making you crave more. “That I only got my eyes on you?” He looks at you one more time, a smug grin plastered on his enthralling lips.

You nod, biting on your lower lip, having no idea where this whole situation is leading to. “Yes.”

Jungkook’s lips finally meet the skin of your jaw, and you let out a sigh from this long-awaited closeness. His hands fall on your hips while his lips leave a trail of kisses from your jaw to your neck. You lean your head back trying to give him more space at which he chuckles satisfied. “Good girl,” his whisper hits your neck and you feel warmth flooding your body. Your hands slide around his neck, pulling him closer as you desperately need more of him.

Jungkook doesn’t need to be asked twice and he buries his face in your neck, leaving wet kisses making you close your eyes in pleasure.

“Jungkook, please,” you whimper, needing to finally feel him on your lips. “Kiss me,” you beg him.

Your eyes shut open when you’re hit with coldness after his lips leave your neck. But then you are met with Jungkook’s eyes, looking at you in anticipation. You can see he’s needy just like you, licking his lower lip.

“Come here,” he rasps and you finally feel his breath hitting your lips while his fingers dig deeper into your hips.

You never even dared to imagine what it would be like to kiss Jungkook, but when his lips meet yours you feel an unknown sensational feeling filling every inch of your body. How is he so good? You let out a quiet moan as his soft tongue pokes out, desperately entering your mouth.

Kissing Jungkook felt natural, so perfect, you weren’t sure you could ever get enough of that. He was taking his time exploring you, attentive to every response of your body to his actions.

You brush your hand through his silky hair, pulling him even closer to you, needing to dive deeper into the kiss. Jungkook groans into your mouth, feeling your confident touches on him. His hands start traveling up from your hips, discovering every curve of your body. You arch your back towards his touches, hands on his chest.

Your body tenses as you feel him beckoning you to the couch behind you, still not breaking the kiss. You are both nervous and thrilled at this. Are you really doing this with Jungkook at his workplace? You must be out of your mind, for sure. But it was hard to be your usual restrained self around Jungkook.

When he carefully places you on the sofa, you almost whimper in despair as he breaks the kiss to stand up. But then you see him teasingly smile at you as he reaches for your shorts, sliding them down your legs, every touch of his hands with your body sends shivers down your spine. You start feeling an unbearable pulsation between your legs when Jungkook, hovering above you, studies every part of your body that’s exposed to him now. His hungry gaze traveled up and down, teeth biting down on his lips.

He reaches for the hem of your shirt, determined to get rid of it as well. But you put your hand over his, stopping him. You’re frustrated with that as much as he is, but it’s probably the last remnant of consciousness kicking in now.

“Next time?” He arches an eyebrow at you. Is there gonna be next time? But you just nod, questions later.

Jungkook seems content with the deal as his hand immediately trails down, leaving his attempt to take off your shirt. Finally, he dives back to you, your lips meeting again, in a more passionate and needy kiss, mouths melting together. When Jungkook places himself between your legs, you feel the weight of his body perfectly pressed against yours.

“I want to feel you, Jungkook,” he catches the moan escaping your lips. You frown, angry at the clothes separating you from feeling the warmth of his skin fully. But not here, next time, you remind yourself.

“Oh, don’t worry about that, baby,” he grants you a mischievous smile. And then his hand slides down, reaching your wetness. Jungkook’s gaze fixed on you, enjoying how your eyelids flutter closed.

You feel Jungkook’s body shudder as he dips his fingers inside of you and you squeeze your eyes shut, groaning. “So wet, and it’s all for me, baby?”

“Yes, for you, Jungkook,” you whine as he goes back to your neck, leaving there wet kisses as he continues to slide his fingers inside you all the way in and back out a few times, taking his time with his long strokes. You hear his raspy growl as he’s getting used to how tight and soft your pussy is.

You arch your back, rolling your hips towards him, trying to meet him and get deeper and deeper. Jungkook moves his fingers up, rubbing your clit.

“Jungkook, I can’t,” you let out a whimper, wanting more of him, spreading your legs wider for him.

“Oh, baby, but you can, you are perfectly made for this,” his low voice makes you shiver around his fingers. Jungkook doesn’t intend to slow down, as his fingers continue to pump you in a deep and steady pace, coming out only to swirl around your clit.

“I want to feel you, please,” you pant lustfully. Since when you were so brave?

You don’t expect Jungkook to obey your words immediately, but this time he doesn’t make you suffer any longer. You watch as he rises up, reaching for the backpack right next to the sofa, fumbling in the pocket. He starts to grow impatient as he can’t seemingly find what he’s looking for, which also kills you. And then he finally pulls out a condom, tearing it open with his teeth. You watch him in awe, turned on by his eagerness.

He lowers his sweatpants and you heavily sigh as he pulls out his big and hard cock. Your heart pounders against your chest as you watch him roll the condom on. Jungkook breathes hard, and you feel his body finally back on yours. He pushes aside your panties, rubbing his tip against you and you throw your head back, not sure how you’ll be able to wait any longer for him. Your pussy throbbing as he reaches for your lips again in a kiss, only to break it again a moment later, to watch your face when he places his cock between your legs.

He slowly enters you, watching how you let out a moan. He’s thrusting his hips steadily, and you stretch around him. Jungkook sinks deeper into you, twisting his arm around your waist. You feel your nipples harden against the fabric of your bra and curse to yourself again for not taking it off earlier.

Jungkook frowns as he buries himself deeper and deeper into you. “Fuck, ____,” he mumbles to your ears and you spread your legs wider, letting him pull out his full length and thrust back in, stretching you.

You gasp at the feeling of his cock filling you, rolling your hips towards him each time, craving for more and more. “Jungkook, it’s so good,” you lick his neck, trailing it with kisses while your body shivers under him.

Jungkook starts fastening his pace and you close your eyes shut, sliding your hands down his thighs, gripping his ass, and pressing him even closer to you as he thrusts harder and rougher now.

You feel his hand behind your back, cupping your ass to nestle in his dick deeper, you hear him panting as he quickens his thrusts, and lewd noises shamelessly filling the practice room. His cock nudges you deep inside and you cry out, pussy clenching around Jungkook as you break loose.

“Oh, God, Jungkook!” You throw your head back, pulling Jungkook into a deep, passionate kiss as he continues to fuck you faster.

Jungkook watches how you drown in pleasure, your body trembling under him. He pushes in and out one more time and you see how he shuts his eyes, groaning in your mouth as he stops, body shuddering. He relaxes on top of you, as you trail your hands up and down his back, both of you heavy breathing.

You lay like that for some time more, both of you adamant to let go of each other. Why would you ever want to leave his arms when it felt so right, so perfect to be cuddled with each other?

Jungkook places small kisses on your face and you let out jolly giggles and then reality hits you. You froze, eyes glaring at him horrified. “ What if someone heard us? Fuck, I totally forgot about that!”

You pushed him from yourself, forcing him to stand up. Jungkook watches you hurriedly put on your shorts, brushing your hair while looking at the mirror, hoping to make yourself presentable again. He drawly pulls back his sweatpants. “Come on, it’s a practice room. It has some soundproof thing to it, don’t worry.”

“Gosh, Jungkook, we didn’t even bother to put on some music,” you sigh desperately, grabbing your head, thinking back to everything that happened.

“Well, we obviously had more important things to worry about, right?” Jungkook smirks, approaching from behind, giving you a back hug, hands firmly on your waist.

You look at both of your reflections in the mirror and almost gasp. Who would have thought that you would end up like this?

You have no time to rack your brain on that any longer as you hear loud raps on the door. You look back at both of you, to make sure you both look decent. Well, your hair is a mess, your cheeks are blazing red, and Jungkook is not any better.

You stare in panic at Jungkook but he just smiles, calmly opening the door and letting in the intruder. Well, at least, it seems like the door was locked, you think to yourself as your blood runs cold realizing that you didn’t even worry about shutting the door before getting on the couch with Jungkook.

“Are you done with the dancing video?” A man enters the room and you recognize his voice. You talked with him on the phone, begging him to let you come here.

“Yes!” You scream, surprising both Jungkook and his manager. “I believe we are done,” you say calmly, lowering your voice.

“Are you sure you've finished?” Jungkook looks at you innocently, and you feel your cheeks burning red again. “I’m sure we can still make better takes, don’t you think so, ____ ?”

Oh, right. The dancing video, the reason why you came here in the first place. You almost forgot about your excuse. You breathe out in relief but then met with Jungkook’s hazed eyes and a cocky grin, you realize his question isn’t so innocent after all.

“Yeah, you’re right. We can definitely do some more takes.”

____________

any feedback is highly appreciated, please let me know your thoughts <;3

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alessiamalfoyzabini · 3 months

Text

𝐇𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐲 𝐄𝐧𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠 | 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐒𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐧

Pairing | Yandere Jungkook x Reader

Word Count | 2,212

Warnings | +18, Yandere , MC has devouring thoughts, Stockholm syndrome, smut, intense blowjob, manipulation, Jungkook is obsessed with her, she now thinks only of him

This fanfiction is yandere, if you don't like the genre, don't read and if you are not of age, don't read.

I don't want to hear any complaints in the comments, thank you.

This does not reflect my way of thinking or living at all, it is just a work of fiction, it is like watching a horror movie, many of us love horror movies, but we would never dream of what we see in those movies happening in reality as well.

Simply put, this story was written for entertainment purposes, it should not be seen as a reflection of my values, opinions or morals. I absolutely do not condone such acts.

⤷ Summary | If she had paid attention earlier to the sin that dwelt behind those obsidian irises, she would never have trusted it.

If she had noticed earlier the devouring love that dwelled in his corrupt heart, she probably would have fled.

She had done none of that, and now she had to come to terms with her new reality.

➢ Author's Note | Hi, guys! Here is the seventh chapter of Happy Ending, the next one will be the last, but fear not, I have a surprise for you ❤

Taglist: @katherine-kookie, @douknowbts, @aiiselle90210, @fewercascade , @mageprincess7, @m00njinnie

Taglist is open!

Chapter List - I - II - III - IV - V - VI - VII - VIII / The End

It was Jungkook, Y/N would have recognized the sound of his boots from miles away, she sensed the footsteps stop right in front of her door, her wide eyes waited, she wished Jungkook would enter the room, but that did not happen, to her disappointment the footsteps continued far beyond her room, and ended up inside Jungkook's master bedroom. The same room she should have shared with the boy long ago now. A worm took possession of her mind, undecided whether to listen to him or not, she waited ten minutes, then twenty, then half an hour, until she jerked up, jerking the covers away from herself. "That's enough, he was the one who wanted me here, he can't behave like this," she thought, coming barefoot into the hallway. She walked slowly on the carpet, looking for any excuse that would allow her to run back and return to her room, but she found no good excuse and finally found herself already in front of the boy's bedroom. She took a breath before lowering the brass doorknob, fortunately for her it did not creak and allowed her to enter in complete and deafening silence. The kidnapping was long forgotten in the girl's head; she would take her place in Jungkook's bed, even if it meant killing any other woman with her own hands.

She closed the door behind her and began to make her way to the vacant seat on the left side, Jungkook seemed to be sleeping soundly and consequently gained more self-confidence, slipped under the soft sheets and settled there. Now accustomed to the darkness, she scrutinized the sleeping face of the young man in every detail, the closed eyes gave an innocent air to the beautifully drawn face, the distended forehead had a few unruly strands on it, and only the lips were softly rippled in a pout that the girl found adorable. She licked her lips, feeling a desire to taste the boy's, so she got closer, so close that she could breathe the same air as Jungkook. With bright irises she descended to his pouty lips, where shortly afterwards she deposited hers in a very light, velvety caress. She found herself falling in love once more, now that she looked at him with different eyes even that small, chaste kiss pleased her, wishing she could give him another, and she did.

A dark and increasingly thirsty flower had finally bloomed, with gnarled roots firmly planted in her heart.

The girl did not know it, but Jungkook had been awake the whole time, silently accepting those attentions that gave him the proof he was looking for. He pretended that he was still in his sleep, stretched his arms out in the direction of the girl, who stiffened when she was enveloped by the boy, who held her loosely on his cozy chest, she feared that she had woken him up, but the boy gave no other sign, under Jungkook's warm breath and enveloped in his warmth, Y/N fell asleep, finally more serene.

The next morning Jungkook woke up pleasantly rested, he noticed after a few seconds the strange cluster of legs and arms crossed with his better half. Y/N was still sleeping, and this time it was his turn to study her relaxed and heedless face. He licked his lips, still feeling the young woman's lips joining his in chaste kisses, which had the effect of making them tingle, and thinking about it for a few seconds, Jungkook found it fitting to return the favor. He crawled slightly lower, coming up to the level of Y/N's face, and slowly teased her lips with his, feeling their softness before resting them completely, in a tender kiss that was soon followed by another, and another. Y/N's eyelids trembled slightly, before opening and fluttering a little to get used to the sunlight, astounded by the pressure she felt at her lips, she widened her eyes when she realized that Jungkook was kissing her, one of his strong hands was gripping her side, another was holding her head, and closing her eyes she let him.

"Good morning," he said, after giving her one last kiss, and at that point Y/N stared at him wordlessly, it had been a long time since she had heard his smooth, light voice, now arched with sleep, she felt her stomach squirm in butterflies. "G-Good morning to you," she replied, embarrassed. She tried to flinch, untangling their perfectly joined legs, but Jungkook would not let her. "Um... I should go to the bathroom," mumbled the girl. "Is it the truth or do you just want to run away?" That question froze Y/N, who turned her head away, Jungkook forced her to look at him. "You are in my bed and I did not force you...did you miss me, my love?" Those words were enough to break the levees, the girl burst into tears catching Jungkook unprepared, he lifted himself up so he could hold her better, stroking her hair. "Ah, so that's it, is it? My little girl needed company, my own?"

Y/N wrinkled her own face on Jungkook's smooth skin, soaking his neck with tears that made the boy smile sadistically, Taehyung was right, now his tender little flower depended entirely on the shade of the big tree not to burn under the sun's rays. "Why haven't you spoken to me these days?" she sobbed, "Not even a glance." Jungkook inhaled her sweet scent, "I did it for your needs, you didn't want me around, am I right?" he feigned a naiveté in his tone that did not belong to him, the young woman shook her head. "I-I thought you didn't want me around anymore, that you were spending time with another woman," her voice cracked on the last word, laying bare all her fears. Jungkook moved away just enough to take her face between his palms, wiped a scarlet cheek with his thumb and stared straight into her watery eyes, "Another woman?" he asked with an ever-widening smile, he had expected an increasing demand for attention, but he had not counted that jealousy would arise as well, he thought it was still too early, but he had to think again. Y/N was really perfect for him.

He kissed her with transport, licking away the salty tears that slid down the girl's face and immediately demanding access to her mouth, which she gladly allowed. Y/N accepted that kiss like a drug addict, let Jungkook settle between her legs and gave him permission to plunder her mouth as he saw fit, enjoying the softness of his hair that she squeezed between her fingers, causing the man to shudder as he pushed his chest against the girl's tender and modestly covered one. "How could I spend time with another woman, when in my thoughts only you exist?" he left a trail of wet kisses on the girl's jaw, following that line up to her neck, which he took care to mark with small bites and light suctions. "I didn't know what else to think," the woman sighed as she closed her eyelids, arching against his lips, which rubbed against her covered breasts. "Do you want to be mine forever?" he took a nipple into his mouth, moistening her blouse as well, "Do you want me, Y/N?" he asked with a bite more voracious than the previous ones. The girl had long forgotten all her fears and warnings not to give in, not to let him go that far. In her mind there was now only Jungkook. It was with a groan that she responded, sending the boy's brain into a frenzy as he pressed one of her thighs against his hip, pressing his boxer-covered hardness directly against the young girl's heated intimacy concealed by her panties.

"Yes! I want to be yours… I want you," she huffed in a whisper, Jungkook lifted his deep dark eyes to hers. "Why don't you show me, Y/N?" he asked in a voice full of desire. Y/N squared him with confusion, what did he mean? "I… what?" Jungkook's eyes shone with something the girl could not quite define. Jungkook took one of her hands, bringing it slowly between their bodies, Y/N flushed when her palm came in contact with his throbbing, stiff erection, she went into a daze, beginning to shake her head. "I've never done that, I don't know how..." she swallowed, unable to finish the sentence. Jungkook stole a kiss from her, "I'll teach you, that's what I'm here for, love," he whispered on her lips, gently accompanying her hand inside his boxers.

Y/N let herself be guided with curiosity, she had never had the opportunity to touch a man really, she had always had to settle for the racy videos, but this was on a whole other level. She touched surprised something very velvety but at the same time hard, Jungkook lifted himself up by removing his underwear completely to allow her more maneuvering and the girl's eyes widened, it was huge. The pinkish, shiny tip already had moist, pearly drops on the slit, drops that the boy pushed all over the rest of his veiny cock, holding just long enough to give each other a few strokes, "You have to do this, love, can you do it?" he asked affectionately, the girl nodded, enraptured by his movements. Her eyes did not detach for a moment from the glorious length, which made her clitoris quiver and throb, she got down on her knees on the bed and carefully and gently took his cock in her hands, it was heavy and thick, she began her tentative strokes all along his erection, finding the sensation pleasurable, as Jungkook's cock became moistened with the clear liquid, Y/N felt more and more proud and aroused, the boy's low, hoarse moans soon invaded the room, as did the sound of his hips pushing against her hand desperately.

She tightened her legs, trying to satisfy the continuous pleasurable throbbing of her intimacy, not without effort. Jungkook, on the other hand, was in heaven, he continued to thrust between Y/N's hands, tense and captive to a pleasure that started from his lower abdomen and spread throughout his body, with a firmer grip of the girl a small scream choked in his throat. God, she was driving him crazy. "Baby, concentrate on the tip," he moaned, collapsing lying on the bed, trembling at the fulfilled request, Y/N ran her thumb several times over the slit from which more and more precum was leaking. "Do you like it?" she asked with heavy breathing, Jungkook lost himself in those tremendously innocent eyes and a rush stronger than the others invaded him. "Do I like it?" laughed Jungkook breathlessly, "Fuck, I want to come in your mouth," he sighed without thinking. Y/N thought about it for a while, observed the increasingly swollen and hard cock, it had taken on a more scarlet and forbidden coloration, she found herself licking her lips. She could try it.

She lowered herself onto the tip, experimentally licking that sensitive and erogenous area, Jungkook's eyes widened, stiffening. Y/N continued to collect in her mouth the small beads of cum that his cock released with each stroke, it was not bad, only slightly salty and she decided to dare more, went down slightly on the length, encompassing a few more inches and sucked, careful not to touch that delicate skin with the tip of her teeth, Jungkook watched in shock as the girl began to move down and up on his cock with her mouth, his pelvis began to move reflexively, desperate for an orgasm, so it was that the girl had to fight to follow the boy's much faster pace, trying not to choke.

She licked his length over and over again, often concentrating on a very sensitive area just below the tip, lulled by the boy's increasingly lustful moans, she even helped herself with her hand where she could not reach. Suddenly a jet of cum hit her directly in the throat, she tried to take deep breaths with her nose so as not to run out of oxygen, but Jungkook grabbed her by the hair, quickly pushing between her soft lips that teased the now sensitive skin even more, Jungkook finished cumming through clenched teeth, holding his breath himself, stricken by a pleasure he could not remember ever feeling. He finally let loose Y/N, who rose up with bated breath, swallowed the last traces of cum on her tongue, and fell wearily into the exhausted sheets. She was tired, but the sight of Jungkook overwrought and sweating with one arm covering his glazed eyes filled her with joy, then everything slowly went black.

The boy turned toward her, he watched her slowly close her eyes, then fall asleep, tired and tried from that blowjob that Jungkook would never forget. He got up with no small effort, his legs were still trembling under the weight of his orgasm, but that did not stop him from taking his sweet and good girl in his arms, carrying her back to the soft pillows, and then covering her with the sheet, she deserved a few more hours of rest, he thought, placing a kiss on her forehead.

#bts #bts fanfiction #bts smut #bts x reader #yandere bts #yandere bts x reader #yandere jungkook x reader #yandere jungkook #bts yandere smut #yandere bts smut #jungkook x reader #bts fanfic #yandere #yandere jeongguk #jeongguk x reader #jeon jungkook x reader

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sailoryooons · 9 months

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okay, Yoongi rec time. I am prepared for you to ruin my life, lessgo~~~

Gimme feelings and vibes, babe!!!! These two understand each other, they are the safe space for one another, their quiet compatibility is god tier.

Premise: Yoongi is 'the one that got away' to you. When you're unexpectedly thrown into each other's worlds again, every old feeling you had takes over like he never left - and it's clear that it's mutual. Problem... Yoongi has a girlfriend.

(Prefer no infidelity, just Yoongi having to make a hard choice, realizing the depth of what he had/and could have again now with reader is more substantial. And reader not being completely sure (maybe from miscommunication or lack of it) what his choice will be.)

honestly idc how smutty you make it, if you want to throw me a bone (huhuhu) and have some spice you know i'm not complaining :)

❀ Pairing: Yoongi x f. reader

❀ Summary: Unresolved feelings lead to nothing but heartache when you run into Yoongi at a wedding five years after breaking up. Especially when you realize that despite Yoongi have feelings for you, there is still another woman on his arm.

❀ Word Count: 3,641

❀ Genre: Angst, exes to lovers, smut

❀ Rating: 18+ Minors are strictly prohibited from engaging and reading this content. It contains explicit content and any minors discovered reading or engaging with this work will be blocked immediately.

❀ Warnings: STUPID PINNING!!!! LIKE JUST TWO IDIOTS WHO NEED TO GET OVER THEIR PRIDE AND GET BACK TOGETHER!!!!!! Angst, a lot of internal pondering on relationships and life, Yoongi is honestly a terrible boyfriend to his current girlfriend (he is in love with reader and it’s very obvious) bickering about relationships, Hyori seems like a bitch but tbh she is in the worst situation lmao, depiction of a breakup, a lot of aching and being wistfully sad, explicit language, sexua content including vaginal fingering, light nipple play, unprotected vaginal sex, some cum and fluids idk they’re sweaty, this is more of an emotional/prosey smut scene than filth, FeElInGs

❀ Published: August 1, 2023

❀ A/N: JO IT TOOK ME A YEAR TO FILL THIS REQUEST FOR YOU BUT GOD DAMMIT I LOVE YOU AND I LOVE THIS REQUEST. I HOPE THAT THIS FITS THE VIBE OF WHAT YOU WERE THINKING AFTER WAITING FOR ME TO FUCKING WRITE IT FOR LITERALLY 365 DAYS. I LOVE YOU SO SO SO MUCH AND THIS IS UNEDITED OKAY. HERE'S TO HALI'S HAPPY AGUST'S FIRST REQUEST DROP!

❀ Disclaimer: All members of BTS are faces and name claims for this story. This is entirely a work of fiction and by no means is meant to be a projection, judgment or representation of real-life people. Any scenarios or representations of the people and places mentioned in works are not representative of real-life scenarios.

| Masterlist | Ask | Song Inspiration | Hali's Happy Agust

“Is that her?” Yoongi doesn’t have to turn to look at who Hyori is talking about. Her tone, tightening grip on his arm, and the way she stiffens says all that he needs to know. “Well? Is it?”

Yoongi doesn’t want to turn around and look. His back and shoulders hurt from sleeping on the hotel couch, his eyes burn from being unable to sleep after staying up most of the night fighting with Hyori, and he knows that Hyori knows what you look like. As if she has not spent hours scrutinizing every part of your life on social media.

Perhaps it’s Yoongi’s fault. He thinks of all the things he’s done for the last two years. Or better - he thinks of all the things that he hasn’t done that have landed him here at this wedding with Hyori seething at your very presence in the same room.

It’s only partially Hyori’s fault. Yoongi could have done better to make her feel secure, to ensure that she felt like he was in this relationship without thoughts of you, to make her feel like he would always be about her and not you.

Yoongi loves quietly, though. Too quietly for a bright, burning star like Hyori, who has turned into a flaring nova over the last year, burning Yoongi when he dares to get too close but freezing him out when he gets too far.

He doesn’t know what to do, so Yoongi does what Hyori wants him to do. He turns and looks over his shoulder, eyes scanning the entrance to the garden that Seokjin and his fiance have selected for their reception.

When he sees you, Yoongi swears he could die. His heart squeezes, his stomach flips. He keeps his features schooled as much as he can, knowing that his girlfriend is watching his every movement, waiting for another reason to dig her nails in deeper, waiting to say I told you so.

“Yeah,” he mumbles and turns back around without looking back again. “That’s her.”

Hyori hums, seemingly satisfied with Yoongi’s lack of interest in you. Her grip softens and she melts into him a little. He fights the urge to lean away, the sudden sight of you making him want to put distance between himself and Hyori.

She did tell me so, he thinks when he realizes that his first instinct of being in the same room with you again is to be away from anyone else. Fuck.

“I don’t like her dress.”

Yoongi hums in agreement, but he couldn’t disagree more. He thinks you look stunning in your silk, sky blue gown. It glows against your skin and Yoongi already knows you’ll smell like vanilla with a hint of cherries, a scent that used to drive him wild. He knows you taste as sweet as you smell, skin warm and soft and-

“Are you listening?” Hyori asks, voice ringing with annoyance.

He wasn’t. “Sorry, I was wondering how many people they invited.”

“Looks like a hundred or so. Did you see who Taehyung brought?”

Hyori launches into assessing the dates brought to the wedding as people are seated for the ceremony. Yoongi hums and nods when appropriate, but his thoughts are miles away from petty conversations with his girlfriend.

Instead, he’s focused on you. Three rows up and on the other side of the aisle, sitting next to Hoseok. You laugh and Yoongi begins to bleed at the seams, all of his wounds that he’s spent the last five years trying to heal opening up for him to drip with pain.

It’s stupid, this endless longing for you. You’d broke it off with him because it was getting too complicated and because Yoongi had missed every opportunity to give you reasons to stay. He knows that you’re happy and he loves seeing you happy, knows that you have no ill will toward him. You wish each other happy birthday, and he texted you when a mutual friend passed away.

So why is it so painful? Yoongi was happy with Hyori at first. She is everything he is not: bright, outspoken, full of energy, adventurous and social. He liked the way that she compliments him, where she makes up for where he lacks. But now, all of those differences have become obstacles, and what they had once admired one another for has become irritations.

When the ceremony starts, Yoongi knows he’s supposed to look back at the bride and watch her enter. Knows that she will be beautiful and it is her day and she is owed all of the attention in the world. But it’s you he watches, waiting with his breath held as you turn, eyes sweeping to watch the bride enter.

And then you’re looking at him and Yoongi breaks. A single look in five years and he knows with sudden, lightning-strike clarity that he cannot do this anymore. The stab of longing is far greater than looking at you from a distance, the weight of your gaze crushing.

Yoongi realizes that there is nothing worse than watching two people proclaim their love in front of their family and friends while the love of his life is sitting three rows, and an aisle away.

Letting out a shaky breath, you bring the flute of champagne to your lips, knocking back the entire thing. It burns on the way down and the carbonation fluxes, making you cough as a sudden burning sensation singes your nose, making you choke.

You set the glass down quickly, coughing your way through swallowing the alcohol the wrong way. Hoseok appears, patting your back and asking, “Shit, you okay?”

“Wrong pipe.”

“Maybe don’t chug your champagne like you’re using a beer bong in college.”

“Well maybe I need stronger champagne,” you shoot back. You immediately wince at your tone, Hoseok raising his brows. “Sorry. Very on edge. I knew seeing him would suck but I didn’t expect to feel like my rib cage would crack open.”

“By the looks of it, you’re not the only one.”

Gritting your teeth, you follow Hoseok’s gaze, glancing over your shoulder toward the far end of the reception room. Yoongi is leaning back in his seat, slouched slightly in his chair and staring off into the distance unseeing. Next to him, his girlfriend Hyori giggles with the woman next to her at their table, either unaware of her boyfriend disassociating or over it.

The worst part about Hoseok’s comment is that it’s true. Seeing Yoongi’s face during the ceremony was all you needed to see to know that it isn’t just you being burned by the fire. You aren’t alone in your pain, but you're not the one in a committed relationship. You’re not the one who has sat passively and let the world and love pass you by.

It’s knowing that hurts so much, you think. Knowing that you love Yoongi more than anyone else in the room. Knowing that maybe walking away because you were too young to understand his love language or how he could do better for you was a mistake.

Five years has given you a lot to think about. You don’t move through the world the same way, and you have a better understanding of the way that people pour love into relationships. You can’t help but wonder what it would be like now that distance has made you understand Yoongi more. You cannot help but ache over imagining that he has fixed all the things about himself you struggled with for another.

“He loves her,” Hoseok murmurs, speaking your thoughts. “But not… like he loves you.”

“Well, that’s his problem.” You pick at a stray hair on your dress. “I admit I was immature and impatient and didn’t give him the chances to be what I needed, but… if he wants me and won’t take me, isn’t that why I left in the first place?”

Hoseok hums his agreement with an undercurrent of sadness. “Come on, let’s dance. Weddings are for celebrating love, not watching it die.”

Hand in Hoseok’s, you let him lead you out onto the floor, spinning you wildly until you’re crashing into Jungkook and Taehyung’s arms, laughing and letting the music sweep you up and away from the hurt. The pain of knowing Yoongi is right there dulls a little.

Being with your friends helps. It takes your thoughts away from thinking of all the things that you did wrong, like ignoring the ways Yoongi was silently telling you that he loved you, like getting mad for not seeing what he was saying in his own, quiet way.

Yoongi isn’t faultless but neither are you blameless, which is perhaps why it hurts so much when you catch glances of him on the other side of the room. His hair is longer than it’s ever been and you wonder if it’s just as soft as it used to be. His face is just as round and soft, and yet he looks older somehow, more mature.

It’s hard not to wonder what it would be like if you’d just given him the chance to be better for you. What it would be like if you had been more patient and understanding of him.

Yoongi does not love loud. He does not exist brightly splashed across paper the way that you do. He loves gently, with your cup of coffee waiting and ready for you every morning, and the oil in your car changed, and the broken shelf in your library mended. He is a soft shadow, the gentle hand on your back at an art gallery you wanted to visit and a held hand at a show he didn’t like but you did.

Sweat lines your forehead and sticks to your arms from dancing. You excuse yourself to take a break and freshen up in the bathroom, the cool air of the venu making you shiver as you wend through candle-lit tables filled with sleeping elders and children stealing wedding cake.

In the hall, you teeter toward the bathroom. After being plied with champagne and some tequila from Taehyung to loosen you up, you feel a little too loose, like you might melt on the floor if you don’t get some water and a seat somewhere underneath an air vent.

“Fuck you,” someone hisses, their voice loud enough to stop you from turning the corner of where the bathrooms are. This section of the hotel is empty, reserved only for events and Seokjin’s wedding is the only event for the evening. “Why did you fucking bring me, then? I told you it would be just like this.”

“I’m sorry.”

“You will be. I have tried, Yoongi. I have tried for a year now, and nothing I do matters. No matter how hard I love you, you still love her. It isn’t fair and it’s cruel.”

Your heart speeds up when you realize it’s Hyori’s hissing voice you hear and Yoongi’s soft baritone. You chew your bottom lip, turning to look at the empty hall behind you. There’s no one around, the wedding working into the late hours of the evening. There doesn’t seem to be another set of bathrooms, and you can’t imagine trying to walk past Hyori and Yoongi in the middle of this.

“You’re right,” Yoongi sighs. You know that sound. Defeated. Sad.

“That’s all you have to say? That I’m right?”

“I don’t know what else to say. You are right. You don’t deserve the effort that I’ve given you, I have been incredibly unfair, and though I love you, it doesn’t erase what I feel for her. It is the worst kind of cruelty I can think of, and I thought I’d get over it. I didn’t.”

“You are the worst kind of person.”

Before you can get yourself together at the sound of Hyori’s clicking heels, she’s turning the corner and nearly slamming into you. She takes a few steps back, eyes wide and blinking in surprise. When she realizes it's you, her face twists into something cruel and venomous.

Instead of saying anything, Hyori rushes by you, shoulder smacking yours. You teeter but don’t stumble, staring at the empty space where she was moments ago. You’re not sure you deserve her wrath, but you understand it. You don’t blame her for it. There is no happiness at her pain, no twist of pride at winning. Knowing that her pain is because it’s still about you. Always has been.

Licking your lips, you take a shaky breath and peek around the corner. Yoongi is standing in the empty hall with his head tilted back toward the ceiling, eyes closed. His long hair falls to his shoulders around him. He looks so beautiful in a suit and bowtie, a picture perfect groom if you thought about it long enough.

Tears sparkle in the corner of his eyes before tracking down his face. His pain is tangible, and before you know what it is you’re doing, you’re walking toward him. He either doesn’t hear you coming or doesn’t care that there is someone to see him cry, because he doesn’t look down at you until your hand is in his and you’re squeezing.

Warmth blooms between your palms. His are rough and calloused like you remember, all from playing guitar and taking the woodshop classes he loves so much. He still smells like cedar and sage, hypnotizing and dark in a way that makes you want to fall into him each time you inhale.

Yoongi’s eyes open, lined in silver-tears. He looks so in pain and so beautiful, this soft boy who is now a man. Different but familiar. A burn and a balm.

“I’m sorry,” he murmurs, quick to speak first. Your hand squeezes his more as Yoongi opens up in front of you on command. As if he only has a moment to correct all of his mistakes in a single breath. “I get it now,” he whispers, voice cracking. “I do, and I’m sorry. And you look beautiful, and happy and I am so happy for you.”

“I know.” You feel a burn in your eyes and realize there are tears threatening to break free. “I- me too. Can we just?”

You don’t have to say what you mean. Yoongi gets it - has always gotten it. From the beginning, to the end. Even when he’s confused, he figures it out. Knows how to put the pieces of your puzzle together for the full image.

Just a tiny exchange leads you to a twist of muttered words, spilled tears and Yoongi’s mouth on yours. You don’t know when he kisses you first or if it was you, but you know that his mouth is on yours and he is warm warm warm and his mouth tastes like whiskey. You breathe him in, fingers pulling at the lapels of his jacket. You want more more more - you always do with him.

Yoongi is a giver. He never takes. He lets you take from him. He crushes you with the weight of his love on the bed, hands feverish and hungry as he pulls your legs up to wrap around his waist. You moan as his rough palms skate up your exposed thigh, lighting a fight as he strokes your skin.

It feels like you might suffocate. The air between you is static as Yoongi sucks your tongue into his mouth, making you shiver. Kissing him has always been your greatest weakness and you forget the way he breaks you apart with gentle swipes of his tongue, the soft nibbling of your bottom lip between his teeth.

You feel like an exposed wire, sparking under Yoongi’s touch. He pulls the dress from your overwhelmed skin, your nipples pebbling in the cold air as his mouth moves from your tips, to your jaw, to your throat. Your pulse beats wildly under the careful touch of his teeth against your skin, the sting of his bites soothed by a swipe of his tongue.

Trembling and panting, you pull at his pants. Yoongi’s skin is hot to the touch, firm in places you don’t remember and soft in places that you do. Your fingers trace his lines and curves, remembering, discovering. You want to learn all of the new things about him and recall the things you already knew.

“Fuck,” you gasp as Yoongi’s wet mouth wraps around a pert nipple. He hums and gives a vicious suck, making your back arch off of the bed. His tongue flicks across your hardened bud a few times, making you twitch under him. “Yoongi.”

He lets go with a pop, a string of spit connecting his mouth and your skin. “Say it again,” he whispers, voice ragged. “Missed hearing you say it.”

“Yoongi,” you say again.

You don’t stop saying his name - can’t stop saying his name. Not when he slides his hands between your legs, fingers trailing through your soaking cunt. Not when he circles those nimble fingers around your clit, sparking pleasure deep inside of you.

It feels like you’re on the edge of madness. Years of want and hurt and desire come bursting to the surface all at once. Your hands slide through Yoongi’s hair, just as soft as you remember it being. You tug hard on the locks, making him moan deeply into your shoulder. His breath is hot against your skin as he teases you, fingers tracing your entrance but doing nothing.

“Please,” you whisper. “Don’t.”

“Just wanted to see if you still get all worked up.” His laugh turns into a groan when you pull his hair harder. You feel his cock straining against your thigh, sticky tip tacky against your skin. “You still do.”

“You have some nerve saying that like your cocks not drooling on my thigh, Yoongi.”

“Fuck, I know.” He slowly slides a finger into your dripping heat. You curse, arching up into him. It isn’t enough. “Could bust just fingering this tight fucking pussy.”

“More.”

“Yeah?” Yoongi inserts another finger and you feel fuller, better. You nod, eyes fluttering shut as he sets a gentle pace, fucking his fingers into you at an angle to press up against that soft spot inside of you that makes you whine. “I still got it.”

“Shut up.”

Yoongi has a right to be smug. It feels like you’re going to shatter, your hips coming off the bed to meet his thrusting hand. Your mouths smash together, teeth and tongues colliding. It’s messy and wet but Yoongi is yours again - maybe not forever, but he is in this moment and it's all you want. All that matters.

Dizzy and drunk on him, you let him work you toward your high, the wet-smack of his fingers between your thighs bracketing the high-pitched sounds escaping you. He attaches his mouth to the sensitive spot beneath your ear, licking and sucking until you’re trembling under him, hands shooting to his arms and legs squeezing his hips as you come apart around his fingers, walls squeezing him tight.

Curses drip from his mouth as he shifts forward, pressing you further into the mattress, thrusting his fingers harder. Your orgasm reaches a peak and your mind is near breaking, ears ringing as he drags it out. You try to move away from him but pull him with you, reaching over stimulation but wanting more.

Yoongi drives you mad. Has always driven you mad. You crave him even more as he pulls his fingers from your fluttering cunt, smearing your slick down your thigh as he gets up on his knees. Your legs fall open for him, butterflied as he strokes his heavy cock in his hand, watching you catch your breath.

Sweat sticks to your skin, the sheets clinging to you. Your thighs protest as Yoongi presses you open and slides his cock along your sticky folds. You twitch when his tip catches your clit, little shockwaves pulsing through you from the stimulation.

Biting his bottom lip, Yoongi angles his hips to push in on his next teasing upstroke and you gasp. The stretch is painful and good, the pressure mounting as he pries you open. You feel yourself drift a little, lost in the feeling as he presses into the hilt, stopping to let your walls flutter around him.

“So fucking tight,” he mutters, falling forward to cage you in with his arms. “Fuck.”

“So fucking big,” you shoot back. “Not my fucking fauuult.”

Your words turn into a mewl as he pulls out and slams back in, hips smacking with bruising force against yours. Yoongi’s laughter is dark against your mouth as he presses his lips to yours. You breathe hard against one another, sharing breath as he fucks you hard and deep.

Sliding your hands along his back, you grab him and pull him closer. Press your fingers into his shoulder blades, grip sliding with the sweat on his back. He works you so easily that within a few moments you’re delirious, babbling under him and near tears that finally - finally - you have him again. Something you’d never thought you’d get.

Apologies spill from his mouth. Yoongi tells you everything he always meant to say. Everything you always wanted from him. You mutter it back, pull sweet words from his tongue, claw him open and make him shudder at your touch.

Forehead pressed to yours, dark eyes burning, Yoongi brings you back to the precipice again. This time when you come, it’s together, your body squeezing tight, muscles spasming. Yoongi kisses you then, shaking above you as you ride it out together, unable to think of anything else but Yoongi.

Later, when he’s asleep next to you and you’re wreathed in the warm cage of his arms, you think never again. Never again will you risk this heartache and let him go.

#yoongi smut #suga smut #min yoongi smut #yoongi fanfic #yoongi x reader #bts suga #bts fanfic #minors do not interact #minors dni #bts suga smut #yoongi angst #halis happy agust

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goldengalore · 1 year

Text

Perception

Summary: Y/N has social anxiety. When she and Harry go on a double date with Jeff and Glenne, Harry thinks everything is going extremely well. It isn’t until they get home later that he realizes Y/N didn’t feel the same way.

Word count: 3.5k

Warnings: anxiety, eating problems due to anxiety, use of alcohol as a coping mechanism (which I do not condone), implied smut

A/N: I focus on H’s POV throughout just to show how much his perception of events differs from Y/N’s, which is tainted by her anxiety. Hoping to write more fics with this concept in the future! :)

***

“You know, you don’t have to go if you don’t want to,” says Harry, entering the master bathroom where Y/N is meticulously applying her makeup.

They have dinner plans tonight with two of Harry’s closest friends—his manager Jeff and Jeff’s wife Glenne. Y/N has met Jeff a few times but only in a professional setting, and she has yet to meet Glenne. Although the four of them have tried making plans to hang out before, they never came to fruition because Y/N’s anxiety would always spiral out of control leading up to the event, causing Harry to make up some excuse for why they have to cancel.

“D—do you not want me to go?” asks Y/N.

He frowns, slipping his hands into the pockets of his brown corduroy pants. “What? Of course I do.”

“It’s just...” She pops open the cap of the lipstick in her hands and stares down at it. “This is the third time you’ve said that to me today.”

His eyes fall shut for a moment, as he realizes how his words must have come across when repeated that many times. “Fuck. Sorry, lovie, I hadn’t meant it that way. I just don’t want you to feel pressured to do something you’re not comfortable with.”

“I can’t bail on them again, H. I’ve done that enough times already.” She sighs. “And besides... Life’s about getting out of your comfort zone, right?” She forces a smile and returns to applying her makeup, leaning forward to get a closer look in the mirror.

He notices a slight tremor in her hand as she glides the rounded edge of the scarlet lipstick across her bottom lip, then the top one. Her lips now match the colour of her knee-length, satin dress. She spent longer than usual getting ready for tonight, going the extra mile to ensure that her makeup was flawless and every hair was in its place.

Now, as he watches her eyes scan her reflection in the mirror, it’s almost like he can read her mind, like he can see her mentally scrutinizing every little aspect of her appearance that she perceives as an imperfection but he perceives as one of the many things he loves about her.

“You look stunning,” he tells her.

She smiles at him. “Thank you, baby.”

He walks over to her. She turns to face him, leaning her hip against the counter. The movement causes a perfectly curled strand of hair to fall over her shoulder. He gently brushes it back. She truly does look stunning, and it’s making him imagine all the things he wants to do to her right now but can’t because it will only end up making them late for dinner, which won’t be any good for her anxiety.

“I hope you know you don’t need to impress them or anything like that,” he says. “They already love you.”

She gives him a skeptical look. “How can they already love me? They barely know me.”

“Um, not true. I talk about you a lot. Probably far too much. In fact, Jeff has told me to shut up on a few different occasions because I wouldn’t stop going on about you.”

His admission makes her laugh and paints her cheeks a cute shade of pink.

“So, they already know lots about you,” he continues, “and they think you’re amazing, which means there’s nothing to prove. All right?”

She nods. He analyzes her expression closely but still can’t discern whether she actually believes him or not; he can only hope she does. He starts to lean in for a kiss but stops an inch away from her lips. She gazes up at him in confusion.

“I really want to kiss you,” he says, “but your lipstick’s going to get all over me.”

She rolls her eyes. “You’re such a baby. Come here.” With a hand on the back of his neck, she pulls him in to complete the kiss, then effortlessly wipes the residue off his mouth with her thumb. “See? All gone.” She smiles sweetly, making him want to kiss her all over again.

“Okay, now get out,” she says. “I need to pee before we leave.”

“Fiiine. I’ll meet you downstairs.”

***

They arrive at the restaurant at nearly the same time as Jeff and Glenne. The four of them convene in the parking lot before heading inside together. The reservation is under Jeff’s name. He speaks to the hostess, who guides them to a booth in the private dining area. It’s quieter here, the dim lighting and soft jazz making it feel even more intimate.

Each couple takes one side of the booth. Harry lets Y/N slide in before him. As they get settled, Jeff asks Y/N if she has ever eaten at this restaurant before. She shakes her head in response. Jeff lets out a dramatic gasp.

“What?! H never brought you here?” He shoots Harry a judgmental look. “What kind of boyfriend are you, man?”

“An amazing one, thank you very much,” Harry retorts, adding, “We’ve just never had a chance to come here.”

The real reason Harry has never brought Y/N here before is that eating in public triggers her anxiety. She tried apologizing to him once for her anxiety preventing them from being a “normal” couple who goes on “normal” dates at restaurants, but he refused to let her apologize for something that’s out of her control. And anyway, they don’t need to go out to fancy restaurants to have fun. As long as he’s with her, he’ll have fun no matter where they are.

“Well, Y/N,” says Jeff, “I can assure you this place serves the best food in all of Los Angeles. I would even go as far as saying all of America.”

“Okay, don’t oversell it now,” Glenne intervenes. “You’re going to set her expectations way too high and she’ll be disappointed.”

“Impossible,” he states confidently.

Glenne rolls her eyes and turns to Y/N. “He’s obsessed with this place, in case you couldn’t tell. Brought me here for our first three dates. Not one, not two”—she leans forward to emphasize—“but three.”

“Oh, you loved it.” When she doesn’t refute his statement, a victorious grin spreads across his face.

Y/N seems enamoured with their exchange. “How did you guys meet?” she asks.

They launch into a story about their very first interaction and how that cascaded into them falling madly in love. A story that Harry has heard a million times now and never gets tired of.

He is a hopeless romantic through and through. He loves love.

Jeff and Glenne have always seemed like the perfect match. In all his years of knowing them and especially on the day he officiated their wedding, Harry often found himself wishing that he could find a love like theirs someday—so pure and everlasting.

Although he and Y/N are still in the early stages of their relationship, having dated for only a few months, something keeps telling him that this might be the love he’s been yearning for all along. And every time he’s with her, that feeling is reinforced.

The waiter—a man of average height with neatly styled blonde hair who introduces himself as Dylan—comes by to deliver their menus and obtain their drink orders. When he leaves, Harry, Jeff, and Glenne begin discussing the menu items, bouncing ideas off each other about what to get and commenting on dishes they’ve previously tried.

Y/N is silent. When Harry looks over at her, she’s staring down at her menu blankly, brows furrowed, teeth nibbling on her bottom lip. The menu items do have strange names, and the brief descriptions accompanying them are not very informative, so he can understand her confusion as a first-timer.

He leans over to her and points at an item on her menu. “I think you’ll like that one.”

She seems relieved to finally have some input on what to order. “Okay, I’ll get that then. But, um...” She glances at Jeff and Glenne, who are immersed in their own conversation about the menu, and drops her voice as she asks, “Do you mind ordering it for me? I’ll probably butcher the name if I try.”

“Sure, no problem.” He straightens up in his seat, then leans back over to her to add, “But just so you know, I’ve butchered plenty of these names before, so you wouldn’t be the first to do it.”

She gives him an appreciative grin.

After some time, Dylan the waiter returns with their drinks and notes down their orders. From the corner of his eye, Harry notices Y/N down a large portion of her cocktail in one go.

Ever since she opened up to him about her struggles with social anxiety, he has been trying to read up on it to understand and support her better. He recalls reading somewhere that people with social anxiety often use alcohol to soothe their nerves before and during social interactions. He has certainly caught Y/N doing that on several occasions. It may not be the healthiest coping mechanism, but he doesn’t judge her for it. He knows from experience what an effective, though temporary, salve alcohol can be for difficult emotions.

“So, Y/N, how did you and H meet?” Glenne asks. “I’ve heard the story from him, but I want to hear your side of it.”

The three of them stare at Y/N expectantly. Her leg is bouncing up and down under the table. Harry places his hand on her thigh, squeezing it gently, reassuringly.

She clears her throat. “We, um, we met in a Zoom meeting.”

“Isn’t that so romantic?” Harry jokes, eliciting a laugh from them.

Y/N seems to relax a bit.

“Wait, hold on,” says Glenne. “Rewind before the Zoom meeting. Harry told me Jeff reached out to you about getting your help with some merch designs?”

“Right, yeah, I’ll start from there,” says Y/N. “Jeff actually reached out to my friend Rosie. She handles all my social media and helps my art gain exposure—all the things I’m not so good at,” she laughs. “So, Rosie called me and said that Harry’s team had reached out to her about my artwork and asked if I would be willing to help design some new exclusive merch for him. I was about to say no at first because well, the thought of my art being seen on such a massive scale was... terrifying. But Rosie convinced me that it would be a great opportunity, so I said yes.”

“Thank God,” Harry mumbles off to the side.

She smiles, continuing, “So, Jeff and Rosie set up a Zoom meeting for the four of us. I was absolutely terrified. Rosie had to do all the talking. I probably said five words the whole time.”

“I remember exactly what she said.” He counts on his fingers as he lists off the only phrases she uttered that day, “She said ‘hi,’ she said ‘thank you’ twice, and she said ‘bye.’”

Glenne chuckles, looking fondly between the two of them.

“The second meeting was much better,” says Y/N. “I actually had to talk since Rosie couldn’t make it. Harry made me feel really comfortable, and I realized he wasn’t scary at all. He also kept reassuring me that I would get credit for my work, as if he thought I was afraid he’d take my designs and run off with them.”

“Yup, classic Harry,” Jeff remarks, nodding along.

Harry’s cheeks grow warm. “Well, I thought that was why you were being so hesitant!” he explains to Y/N. “It’s happened to other people. Didn’t want you to think I was like that. I’m a man of integrity, you know.”

“Oh, I never doubted that, baby.” She places her hand on top of his on her thigh.

“What a sweet story,” says Glenne.

“Who knew people could find love over Zoom?” Jeff jokes.

“Maybe they should change their branding and become a dating website,” Y/N adds facetiously, earning a laugh from all of them.

It delights Harry to see her opening up to his friends. This is the Y/N that he wanted them to see—the funny, opinionated person beneath the shy, reserved exterior. There are so many layers to her, and he finds himself uncovering more and more each day.

Their orders arrive a few minutes later. Everyone except Y/N digs into their food ravenously. She takes several sips of her drink before even touching anything on her plate. On the way there, Harry told her that she could sneak her food onto his plate if her nerves were making it hard to eat.

“You’re just saying that because you like stealing my food,” she said when he suggested that.

“You got me,” he replied with a smirk.

Dinner goes swimmingly. Y/N loosens up more and more as time goes on. He can’t be sure whether it’s the effects of the alcohol—she’s had a few refills of her drink—or the fact that she’s growing comfortable around Jeff and Glenne, but he would like to think it’s mostly the latter.

After they’ve finished eating and paid the bill, Y/N and Glenne take a trip to the restroom while Harry and Jeff wait for them outside the entrance.

“Y/N seems awesome,” says Jeff. “I can’t believe you’ve been hiding her from us this whole time.”

Harry gives him an amused look. “I haven’t been ‘hiding’ her. She’s just shy. Takes her a bit to get comfortable around new people, you know?”

“I get that. Hopefully, she can start coming out with us more often. Seems like she’s going to be around for a while.” He smirks and playfully nudges Harry, who coughs into his fist to cover up the boyish grin on his face.

The door to the restaurant swings open, and out comes Glenne with her arm wrapped around Y/N’s. They’re both laughing about something.

“Someone’s a little tipsy,” says Glenne, as they approach the men. “She almost walked into a wall coming out of the restroom.”

Y/N hiccups. “It came out of nowhere!”

“Good thing I caught her in time.”

“Thanks, Glenne,” says Harry. “I’ll take it from here.” He puts an arm around his girlfriend’s shoulders, pulling her close to him.

“I’m really not that drunk,” she insists, hiccupping again.

“Whatever you say, lovie,” he teases, planting a kiss on the side of her head.

***

Y/N hardly says a word on the ride home. Harry doesn’t think anything of it. He’s still musing over what a wonderful night it was and how happy he is that his friends got along so well with his girlfriend.

When they get home, it’s still pretty early, so they decide to watch a movie on the couch. Y/N lays with her head on his chest, face directed towards the TV. She hasn’t moved or spoken in a while, so he assumes she must have fallen asleep in the middle of the movie, but then she suddenly sits up.

“I’m pretty tired,” she tells him. “I think I’ll head to bed, but you can finish the movie without me.”

“Are you sure?”

She nods and gives him a kiss goodnight before standing up and leaving the room.

The movie is still playing, but Harry can no longer focus. Something about the way Y/N avoided his eyes when she got up and her brisk steps toward the stairs has left him feeling strange. He tries to tell himself that she probably was just tired and eager to crawl into bed, but that explanation doesn’t quite satisfy him.

His gut is urging him to go upstairs and check on her. He waits a few minutes before doing so, quietly climbing the stairs and approaching the bedroom at the end of the hall. The lights are off, but the door is open. He peeks inside and sees Y/N laying there under the covers, wide awake, staring up at the ceiling.

“Lovie?”

She jumps a little at his voice and turns to look at him. “What are you doing here? I said you could finish the movie without me.”

“It’s no fun without you.” He walks in and sits down on the bed next to her, switching on the lamp on the bedside table. “Wanna tell me what’s going on in that pretty head of yours?” He lightly taps her forehead, bringing a small smile to her lips.

“Nothing. It’s stupid.” She closes her eyes and sighs. When she opens them again, there’s a sadness behind them. “I’m sorry, H.”

“For what?”

“For embarrassing you in front of your friends tonight.”

He frowns. “Embarrassing me? Is this about you getting a bit drunk? There’s nothing wrong with that, you know. It’s not like you were climbing on tables and cussing at bystanders. That would have been embarrassing, albeit hilarious.”

“It’s not just that.” She shakes her head. “It was... It was everything. I was trying so hard to act normal, but everything that came out of my mouth just felt awkward, and then there’s the fact that I hardly ate anything and I know Jeff noticed that because he kept glancing over at my plate and I could tell he was wondering why I was acting so strange, and I also feel like I wasn’t contributing to the conversation as much as I should have, but I—I just didn’t know what to say and now I’m worried that they think I’m boring or—or—”

“Y/N, hey.” He places a gentle hand on her chest to halt her rambling. “Take a deep breath for me.”

He feels her chest rise as she inhales deeply, then fall as she exhales slowly.

“Good. Now listen to me. You did not embarrass me, so get that out of your head right now, okay?”

She nods.

“And all those worries floating around in your head? They’re not real, my love. Dinner went really well. You were wonderful. I was having a great time, and I thought you were too, but I might’ve misinterpreted things—”

“You didn’t. I was having a good time. It was only after we left that I started getting in my head about it...” She pouts. “I just really wanted them to like me.”

“They do. I promise they do. You know what Jeff said to me while we were waiting outside for you and Glenne? He said you’re awesome and he hopes you’ll come out with us more often. Now why would he say that if he didn’t like you?”

She shrugs. “Maybe he was just trying to be polite?”

That almost makes him keel over with laughter. “Sweetheart, Jeff and I are way past the point of politeness. If he doesn’t like someone I’m seeing, he does not hesitate to tell me.”

She stares up at the ceiling again, biting on her lip. “Did he really say that?” she asks eventually.

“He did. But in case you don’t believe me, let me show you a text I received from Glenne after we got home.”

He takes his phone out of his pocket and opens up his messages with Glenne. The most recent one says, “Hey, I completely forgot to get Y/N’s number. Would you mind sending it to me? I’d love to plan a shopping trip with her sometime.” He allows Y/N to read it for herself.

She looks at him when she’s done.

“Believe me now?” he asks.

“Yes.” Pulling the covers up over her head, she releases a frustrated groan. “Why am I like this? Why do I get so in my head about these things?”

He lies down next to her and brings the covers back down below her face. “It’s okay. It’s just your mind playing tricks on you, that’s all.”

“How do you even put up with me?”

“The real question is, how do you”—he shifts to get on top of her, his face hovering above hers—“put up with me”—he kisses her lips—“constantly wanting to be around you”—then her neck—“all the bloody time?”

She giggles and squirms at the feeling of his lips leaving sloppy, open-mouthed kisses all along her neck. As he continues showering her with kisses, all the tension seems to evaporate from her body. She melts into the mattress. Determined to help her relax even further, he lifts up the covers from the bottom and ducks under them.

“What are you doing?” she asks.

“I’ve heard the best remedy for anxious thoughts is an orgasm.”

He can hear the amusement in her voice as she replies, “Oh, is that right?”

“Mhm.” His hands slide up her thighs, spreading them apart to make room for himself.

“Did you read that on WebMD?”

“Something like that.”

***

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jewishvitya · 1 year

Note

Rowling had nothing to do with Legacy and I think most people forget that. She wasn't even consulted. WB bought the license and the devs did whatever they wanted. "Sirona" is a beautiful, feminine Celtic name associated with healing, and "Ryan" is an extremely common Irish surname. I feel like people are looking for reasons to be offended, especially when it comes to trans characters and antisemitism. The goblins are not and have never been Jewish stereotypes. They're a fictional race. They're based on Tolkien's goblins and old English folklore dating back to the 1400's, where they have always been depicted and small, ugly, and greedy. Rowling herself was shocked by the antisemitism rumors and staunchly stated they weren't true. Just like the rumors saying lycanthopy is a metaphor for AIDS. Just... who thinks of this stuff?

What's really sad is people have argued that Sirona was never meant to be trans, but a male character that the devs rendered to look "more feminine" at the last minute. People have made fun of her voice and said it's "too masculine", so obviously WB just hired a man to voice her and changed her gender later. But that's not true! Her VA is actually a trans woman and the backlash against the character must be devastating to the VA.

Okay, so, I don't think you're here in good faith. You're here to be dismissive. But I'll reply anyway, just in case I'm wrong.

One thing at a time.

I'll start with the one point you made that I agree with: the VA. She doesn't deserve to have her voice scrutinized and criticized. That's horrible, no one deserves that. I did see - and share - the misinformation that Sirona Ryan was voiced by a man, and I regret that. I edited it out of my post as soon as I knew, but this is tumblr and unedited versions do go around. I hope more people will see that corrected, and leave the VA's voice alone.

Now for the mess you threw at me.

Hogwarts Legacy is related to Rowling by virtue of existing within the world she created. It's still her goblins, since she gave her permission to create this, and she let it be added to the canon.

Rowling's world is the context.

I don't care that she wasn't consulted about the details, that just means the other creators are bigots too. When you build within a world that has such large issues, where so much time and effort was devoted to highlighting and criticizing those issues, and you create a story that continues all the problems from the original canon and adds to them - that's a choice that I have a right to criticize. They had the benefit of being a google search away from knowing how to be respectful about all of this, and they did the opposite.

Sirona Ryan IS a beautiful real name, that's not the issue. I already wrote this post where I tried to explain the reaction, but I accept that maybe my feelings about this name come from cultural ignorance. If that's the case, I apologize, and I'd love to be corrected.

My real issue with the game is the antisemitism.

You say "folklore dating back to the 1400's" as if that's far too old to be influenced by antisemitism. Fun fact: antisemitism is older than goblins. Antisemitism is literally millennia old. At least as old as Christianity, which is the root of many antisemitic ideas. It's older than many European mythological creatures, and it infuses a lot of European folklore and mythology, down to the depictions of witches with their pointy hats. Stories about goblins being used as a way to dehumanize Jewish people is not new. And using a fictional race of non-humans as stand-ins for real groups of marginalized people - either intentionally or not - is a very common practice in storytelling. Most fantasy races have those roots to them. But even then, where, in the original lore of the goblins, did they control the banks?

It doesn't matter if Rowling was shocked by the claims of antisemitism and it doesn't matter if she denied them. The reality of her story is that she created an antisemitic depiction. I can believe that it wasn't her intention, but that doesn't mean it's not what she did.

You don't get to look at an antagonistic group that embodies EVERY SINGLE TRAIT THAT WAS ASSIGNED TO MY PEOPLE TO DEMONIZE US and tell me that's not antisemitic.

I already made this list, but let's do it again. All antisemitic traits that can be found in Rowling's goblins. I'll break it down to the original book canon, the movies, and the game.

Books - Rowling's actual canon:

Short, with clever swarthy faces, sallow skin and pointed beards

A guttural language

Ruthless and known for their greed

Pursue someone who owes them money with violent threats

Have cultural differences that make them impossible to trust

Harmed by dark wizard but still suspected to support them

Only worth associating with for their metalworking and control of the economy

She placed a goblin's rebellion in 1612 - the same year as the events that led to the Fettmilch uprising, which resulted in pogroms and Jewish deaths. Rowling stated that wars and political unrest parallel between the muggle world and the wizarding world as the two societies influence each other

The most prominent named goblin character, Griphook, betrays Harry. Harry is a Christ allegory - literally sacrifices himself to save everyone, and then comes back to life

Movies:

Hooked noses - the best known antisemitic feature

A six pointed star in the building they chose for the bank - I don't believe this was intentional, but it's an unfortunate choice and they could have covered it

Here end the parts I blame on Rowling directly. And the game was built on these foundations.

Game:

A historical time frame of pogroms, where our people were murdered in large massacres that often had support from authorities

Explicit ties between the goblins and the dark wizards

Aiming to undermine wizard society - the goal assigned to us in every antisemitic conspiracy theory

Kidnapping of children for their magic - literally just look up blood libel

A character says the goblins can't appreciate art. It’s absurd to say considering the quality and coveted status of goblin-made artifacts. In the real world, this is a claim that was made against Jews by the Nazis (and it targets other groups hated by white supremacists as well)

A ram’s horn artifact that strongly resembles a silver plated Shofar - a Jewish ritual item. Said horn is from 1612, from the same rebellion mentioned above. According to the item’s description, it was blown to rally the goblins and to annoy witches and wizards. It was stuffed with gorgonzola to mute it, a specifically non-kosher cheese (most kinds of cheese are kosher). It's so disrespectful I still don't have the words to fully convey it

Whether you want to acknowledge it or not, those traits became associated with Jewish people as a group through hateful propaganda. Putting all of them on a non-human race isn't better. It just adds to the dehumanization of it. It's not just Rowling's fault. That's shared by every single person who had a hand in the creation of this story. For the issues in the game, I blame the people named here more. I see no reason to extend grace to far-right bigots.

But to focus on Rowling. You brought up lycanthropy. You seem to think we made up the idea that it's a metaphor for HIV. We didn't. She said that. In the ebook Short Stories From Hogwarts of Heroism, Hardship, and Dangerous Hobbies - she said that. She said it before that, on Pottermore.

Lupin's condition of lycanthropy (being a werewolf) was a metaphor for those illnesses that carry a stigma, like HIV and AIDS. [...] The wizarding community is as prone to hysteria and prejudice as the Muggle one, and the character of Lupin gave me a chance to examine those attitudes.

This is a quote of her thoughts. It still exists on Lupin's page on her Wizarding World website.

And it's actually a pretty good example of how it's absolutely possible to be awful about depicting a stigmatized minority through a fantasy stand-in.

HIV+ people are stigmatized through no fault of their own. But in her books, it seems reasonable for the wizards to fear werewolves. And she did that, she made prejudice reasonable. We have: Remus Lupin, a named werewolf who is good and kind, and tries to avoid hurting people. Even then, he nearly does cause harm more than once. He turns in front of our heroes and spends a night loose in the forest. He tells the heroes that as a student, he almost bit people while out with his friends. So even while well-intentioned, he's a danger. That means we don't have a single safe HIV+ allegory in her work. The other named werewolf is Fenrir Greyback, who intentionally targets children to turn them young and raise them to hate the society they came from - which is fucking homophobic, whatever she intended, because of the way HIV gets associated with homosexuality. And the rest? A whole community of werewolves who side with the Death Eaters.

Did she mean to make a whole community of marginalized people into wizard Nazis? I DON'T CARE. SHE DID THAT.

I don't care to argue about her intentions while writing the text. I can't read minds. I can read the text she wrote. I can see what was put into the game that was added into her world. I can read about the history of my people and their persecution. I can see how disturbingly similar this game's story is to the propaganda that led to my grandparents suffering through the holocaust and losing their families to it.

If she cared about the antisemitism in her works, she wouldn't just act horrified and say "No, of course I wasn't being hateful to Jews!" - she'd look at whatever she lets people put into her IP, to prevent further harm. I do blame the other writers of the game more than I blame her for that plot, but it's not better that she gave her approval without being consulted. It's her IP, it carries her name, she gets royalties, it's her responsibility.

And at the very least, she doesn't care about antisemitism enough to worry about minimizing harm. I know that, because I know her friends. I know TERFs and Gender Criticals. Rowling saw an anti-trans event with white supremacist speakers, and she chose to criticize the counter-protesters. She went out to eat with Maya Forstater and Helen Joyce, who participated and spoke in events organized by Posie Parker - who explicitly includes far right groups in her events, and shares platforms with white supremacists. Rowling bought merch from Posie Parker. She wrote about Magdalen Berns as a "brave young feminist" - as if she didn't push the antisemitic George Soros conspiracy theory and share Breitbart articles. She praised MATT WALSH. The people she associates with now, read from Mein Kampf in their rallies.

She didn't put the antisemitism in the game, but she's very comfortable with antisemitism. Don't tell me she was horrified by the idea that her goblins could be called antisemitic. She just didn't want the label applied to her. If you willingly associate with Nazis, you're a Nazi. And enough of her friends don't seem to mind that.

I stand by what I said: playing this game, even pirated, is like printing out an antisemitic caricature and hanging it on your wall, saying “well, I didn’t pay the artist, I just like this art.”

#riki babbles #hogwarts legacy #antisemitism #homophobia #JKR doesn't care about Jews #She just likes invoking the holocaust #HP #JKR

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zepskies · 1 year

Text

Never Say Goodbye - Part 8

Pairing: Dean x Female Reader

Summary: The first time you and Dean sensed each other’s thoughts and feelings, you were just kids. It would take years to realize that you both were bonded for life, and even longer to finally meet. [Soulmate AU] (Rated M for eventual scenes – 18+)

Word Count: 5,000 Warnings: Angst, hurt/comfort and feels, alcoholism lol

Part 8: Long Distance

Sam stayed back at Bobby’s while Dean accompanied you back home, now that it was no longer a crime scene. When your dad finally got off of work, he greeted you in the living room with relief in his eyes and a warm hug.

That warmth diminished when he noticed Dean standing behind you.

“Dean’s a friend of Bobby’s,” you explained. Dean introduced himself and shook Jack’s hand.

“Yeah, wanted to make sure she got here okay,” Dean added.

Jack scrutinized him as they shook hands. Maybe he suspected that you and Dean weren’t telling the whole truth, but Jack seemed to accept things.

For now.

“I think we’ve got frozen pizzas for dinner if we don’t want to order out,” you said. You went over to the kitchen to check, but without you realizing, that brought you right to the spot where you were assaulted just two days ago.

The blood had been scrubbed off the tile floor. There were still small, suspect stains in the grout, though. You looked up and saw your reflection in the microwave. It wasn’t unlike that night, when you had looked up and seen your bloody face, then looked down and seen Danny Schmitt lying dead on the floor.

You flinched when a hand came to rest on your shoulder. It was Dean, and you gave him a small grateful look. You briefly covered his hand with yours, but you took a breath and forced yourself to move past the spot, and continue toward the fridge.

Jack watched the small moment between you and Dean. Dean knew that Jack had caught it, while you remained oblivious as you puttered around in the kitchen.

The three of you made somewhat painful small talk while waiting for the pizzas to cook. When it was done, Dean helped set the table and you cut out the slices. Jack took an opportunity to grab a beer and approach you.

“So why’s Skater Boy still in my house?” Jack asked. You could only assume he meant Dean.

“Dad, please don’t be rude,” you warned.

“You seein’ him or something?”

You set down the pizza cutter and gave Jack a pointed look. “As a matter of fact, yes.”

Dean could hear you and Jack talking from the dining room. He took issue with your dad’s phrasing. It was a little more than “seeing,” but at least now he understood what you’d been talking about with your dad. The guy was a hard-ass.

So Dean would go along with however you wanted to play this. It was only fair.

The problem was, this mostly left you to keep the conversation going once the three of you sat down to eat. For forty-five minutes you did your best to fill the silences, but Jack was a man of sparing words.

“So yeah, I should be able to finish my thesis in time. I’m looking to have a job lined up after I graduate next semester, but the only thing I’ve really been seeing is teaching positions,” you explained.

“Teaching’s acceptable,” your dad said, after finishing his second beer. “And doable, for you.”

You glanced at your dad with a telling press of your lips.

Dean understood your annoyance. Doable for you?

What was that supposed to mean?

“Well, I’m not sure I want to teach,” you said. “I’m thinking of applying to the natural history museum here in Sioux Falls.”

“And do what, dust off wax mannequins?” Jack remarked.

You set down your glass of water a bit too hard. “If you’re going to say something, say it.”

Jack gave you a look of exasperation. “I’m just sayin’. You went to college without a real plan, now it’s bitin’ you in the ass. And it ain’t been cheap—”

“For you it has, because I put myself through college,” you countered.

“What I’m saying is, now you’ve limited yourself—”

Jack actually reminded Dean of his dad in a lot of ways. But he had a feeling this man didn’t know his daughter very well. Dean wasn’t normally one to meddle in things that weren’t his business, but you were stressed out enough. He didn’t like the way your shoulders were tightening. He could feel your upset through the soul bond, and your eyes were dangerously close to frustrated tears.

He touched your knee beneath the table and looked over at Jack.

“Look, maybe we could just take things down a couple notches here,” Dean suggested.

Jack turned to him with an angry frown. “Now would be a very good time for you to butt out. Dean, was it? Matter of fact, why don’t you get the hell out of my house—”

“Okay, that’s enough!” you shouted. You clenched one fist on the dining table, the other on your knee beneath the table.

Both men looked at you with mixed reactions of surprise.

You turned to your dad. “The difference between you and me is I pursued what I was interested in. You went after what you were good at.”

“What’s wrong with that?” Jack asked, after his shock wore off.

“Nothing,” you said. “But neither is what I did. I’m proud of where I am so far, what I’ve accomplished. I’m sorry if you don’t think that’s worth much, but I do. You don’t have to agree with my choices, but you can at least respect me.”

Silence fell across the table.

Secretly, Dean was proud of you, and he tapered down a smile. He knew you sensed it when you glanced at him.

“I respect you,” Jack said, pulling your attention away. “But I’m still your father.”

You shook your head. “You don’t, Dad. If you did, it wouldn’t be so hard to tell you that I’m not dating Dean. He’s my soulmate.”

Once again, shock made the air tense. Jack’s eyes were open wide, looking from you, to Dean, and back again. His brows furrowed.

So Dean, ever the tension breaker, offered you and Jack a resigned grin. He pointed to his and Jack’s beer bottles, which were empty.

“Well,” he said, “I’ll get the whiskey.”

When your father’s shock finally wore off, he had plenty of questions for Dean. About where he lived, his job, his life in general—most of which Dean couldn’t answer honestly. Jack was a police detective by trade. As such, he was a perceptive man who knew he wasn’t getting the whole story, but eventually you cut off the inquisition.

You showed Dean up to your room, where you two were able to get some privacy.

“I’m proud of you,” he said, once you both sat on the edge of your bed. “I could tell that, uh…that conversation with your dad was a long time coming.”

You nodded, but you couldn’t quite smile. “When are you leaving?”

“Tomorrow,” he replied.

Tomorrow. You sighed, but you also tried not to let him sense your darkening emotions. Instead, you sat up straight and gave him a decisive look.

“Okay, then I’m staying with you at Bobby’s tonight,” you said. One more night together.

Dean’s lips raised into a grin. “Yes, ma’am.”

You spent that night mostly playing cards with Sam, Dean, and Bobby as they taught you how to hustle poker. You drank and ate and laughed, and at night, you and Dean continued to learn each other’s bodies.

In the morning, you hugged both Sam and Dean goodbye.

“I’m sorry,” Dean apologized again while he held you. “I’ll call you later.”

Holding back your tears, you nodded and kissed him one more time. He tucked a finger beneath your chin to keep your head up. You tried at a smile, which he appreciated.

Then Sam and Dean climbed into the Impala. You watched them leave, and Bobby laid a supportive hand on your shoulder.

The next year was torturous for you both.

Dean updated you after various hunts. Not on a regular schedule, but often enough. Sam started calling now and then with historical questions—some you could answer off the top of your head, and some you actually put in some effort into researching. Dean didn’t like it at first, but soon he started calling you for information himself.

You were smart, quick on your feet, and realistically, a convenient resource since you had access to a university library. You enjoyed it though. You were happy to be helpful to them, but you also liked the research. Often they were interesting topics in the mythologies of different cultures (if you took out the whole hashing and slashing of innocent people and monsters out of it).

But that part too was gratifying; you felt like you were helping them save lives, in whatever small way you could offer.

You also visited Bobby more often. It was your last semester of college and he helped you with your thesis, actually giving you good notes. Dean, bless him, was encouraging, but really only helped you with the movie references. Bobby actually gave you feedback on your writing and added tidbits to the historical aspects as well.

You learned that Bobby was actually really smart. Maybe that was where you got your affinity for history and language arts.

One day though, your uncle noticed that you weren’t as into it as usual. You had a half-drunk beer in your hand while the two of you working in the living room—on the final draft of your thesis.

Bobby had asked you a question about a certain line, but you hadn’t heard him.

“Hey, you awake over there?” he asked. Jolting in your seat, you looked over at him apologetically.

“Sorry, what?”

Bobby smiled wryly. “Let me guess. Dean ain’t called you?”

You shook your head. “I talked to him yesterday. They’re investigating a cursed painting in New York somewhere.”

“So what’s with the face?”

You shrugged. “Nothing.”

After you didn’t give Bobby anything to go on, he sighed and leaned back in his chair. “Okay…”

You two spent an extended moment in relative silence, where only faint music from the radio played in the background. Plus, the occasional turning of pages from Bobby’s book.

“It’s just,” you started to say. Bobby closed his book with an expectant look on his face.

“I’ve waited twenty-four years to find him,” you said. “Twenty-fucking-four. And now I still have to wait. How long will it be until I can start my life?”

“Well first of all, you’ve been living your life long before Dean,” Bobby pointed out. “You have your own thing going, and right now, so does Dean. When he finishes dealing with his past, he’ll be able to start thinkin’ about his future.”

That was fair, you considered. It made you feel a bit immature when he put it like that. Nor was it realistic of you to expect Dean to drop everything else in his life for you…

You and your uncle had gotten closer over the past few months. So you felt you could ask him something that had been on your mind for a long time.

“Feel free to ignore me, but, about Aunt Karen…was she your soulmate?” you asked.

Bobby looked over at you after sipping at a fifth of whiskey. He seemed reluctant to even say her name.

“She was,” he admitted.

You knew this would be a sensitive subject, but you took a chance. “What happened to her, Bobby?”

At first, he was quiet. You just waited to see what he would say, if he was willing to trust you. After a short while, slowly, he told you.

She’d been possessed by a demon.

Not one exactly like Sam and Dean were hunting, but close enough. However, Bobby didn’t know then what he knew now.

She’d been coming at him with a knife, and before he realized what he was doing, he was defending himself with the same knife. But she just kept coming. It took your father, Jack, to pull her off of him. And Rufus, who had been tracking the thing, broke into Bobby’s house and exorcised the demon.

Then, a black spirit drained out of Karen’s body. She had enough awareness to look down at her three stab wounds before she fell to the floor. Finally, she bled out.

She was gone before either Jack or Bobby could get her to a hospital.

Jack had reluctantly helped cover up the scene by saying she’d suffered a psychotic break and attacked her husband. Bobby’s case was self-defense.

You could relate to that, at least.

By the end of his story, you were trying in vain to stifle your tears. When you were able to speak, you asked another question.

“Then…why does Dad hate you so much if it wasn’t you fault?”

“Because I killed her. My own wife, my…” Bobby sighed, a heavy, sharp exhale. “His baby sister. I can’t blame him.”

Because he still blamed himself. In the end, it was blood all over him and the body of his soulmate in his arms.

You didn’t know how to comfort him, but you tried. Still silently crying, you rested your hands on his arm while he couldn’t quite bring the whiskey back to his lips.

When you graduated in May, you didn’t expect Sam and Dean to come. You’d told them about it, but when the ceremony came and you stood on that stage, you didn’t see the brothers in the crowd. You saw your dad, Bobby, some of your colleagues from the university, and a couple of your best friends from high school.

You forced your disappointment down and accepted your diploma with a smile. You were now finished with school, complete with your master’s degree in Greek and Roman Studies. And in two weeks, you had a job lined up at the local museum. You would be giving exhibit tours, and you already had a script you had to memorize by your first day.

Maybe it was basic, but there was a path for growth there for you. In a few years you could work yourself up to museum curator!

The point was, you felt it was a step in the right direction.

Later at home that night, your dad congratulated you while you cut up the cake he bought for you in the kitchen. He set a hand on your shoulder, subtly asking you to pause what you were doing. You turned to him with a smile.

“I’m proud of you, darlin’,” he said. “You’ve got drive, and you did what you set out to do…so much of you reminds me of your mom that way.”

Tears welled up in your eyes. Thinking about your conversation with Bobby a few weeks ago, you looked at your dad a bit differently. You had compassion for him. Like Bobby, Jack had lost his person. He was just a man who couldn’t let go.

“I get why you have a hard time remembering Mom,” you said. “Now that I have Dean, I can’t imagine how I would feel if I lost him.”

But it was still a monumental fear. Every day that you didn’t hear from Dean between hunts could be nerve-wracking when you thought about what he was doing. Especially when you didn’t know how much he left out for your sake.

So when Jack nodded, you looked up and saw rare emotion in his eyes.

“How’s Dean?” he asked.

“He’s on a job in South Carolina,” you lied, and felt a twinge of guilt doing it. “Severe rat infestation.”

“Okay. And he couldn’t take a couple days off the rats to be here today?”

Your lips pursed at the question—mainly because it was the same one you had. You just didn’t want your dad to know that.

“He’s working hard,” was all that you could think to reply. You knew it totally didn’t convince your dad, but you handed him a slice of cake to shut him up about it.

Later in your room, you laid out your cap and gown on your bed. You debated keeping them in your closet, or just donating them. It wasn’t like you were ever going to wear this again.

Hey, beautiful.

You gasped when Dean’s thoughts startled you. You whipped around and there he was in your doorway, dressed in his usual jeans, shirt, and leather jacket combo. He smiled and held a bouquet of flowers for you.

“Congratulations, Professor,” he said.

Tears welled up in your eyes as you went to him. You actually almost bowled him over by jumping into his arms.

“Whoa!” he said with a laugh. He gripped your thighs tight around his hips but lost a few steps, crashing against the wall and disturbing some of your frames. You both laughed and kissed deeply.

After a while, you slid back down to your feet and he stroked your cheek in affection. He offered you the flowers again, and you accepted them with a pink blush. They weren’t just basic roses. Most of them you couldn’t name, but there were daisies and large orange flowers, thin springs of small white and green ones, white and red flowers that greeted you with soft blooming petals.

“Thank you, these are beautiful,” you said.

His smile fell. “Sorry I’m late.”

Your excitement dimmed, but you shook your head. “It’s okay.”

Dean noticed your cap and gown on the bed and gestured to them.

“Mind modeling that little number for me?” he teased.

Your mouth twitched. “What, really?”

“Yeah, why not? I wanna see the full package of the college grad.”

With another little blush, you obliged him. After setting down the flowers on your dresser, you slipped on your large, silky graduation gown first, then the cap. You adjusted the tassel so it wasn’t directly in your face. Then you grinned and struck a pose for him in the shapeless gown.

“Real sexy, huh?”

Dean smirked. “Absolutely. College girls are always sexy.”

You laughed and dropped the pose. Both of you sat down on the bed while you took off the cap. Dean fixed your frizzy hair as a result.

“Well, officially I’m not a college girl anymore,” you pointed out. “I’m starting at the museum soon, I think I told you.”

Dean nodded. “That’s okay. Hot nerds are even better.”

You giggled and took his larger hand in yours. “Where’s Sam?”

“Chillin’ at Bobby’s.”

“Ah…you saw my dad?”

“Downstairs. Wasn’t exactly happy to see me,” Dean said. “I, uh…I am sorry I couldn’t make it to the big ceremony.”

You shook your head with a smile. “I’m just glad you’re here.”

Soon, you fell into the pull of him as he guided you into a kiss. You held his face in your hands, and he tugged you into his lap.

“Up for a sleepover?” you asked between heated kisses. Though it was difficult to think at the moment, Dean hesitated.

“What about your dad?” He groaned when your nails dragged down the back of his neck. You gave a nipping kiss between his neck and shoulder.

“You can be quiet, can’t you?” you said against his skin. Normally you wouldn’t dream of doing this when your dad was in the house, but it had been months since you’d seen Dean. Months.

One of your hands moved down between your bodies to palm at the growing bulge in his jeans.

“Well,” he said with a grunt, “I’m always up for a challenge.”

He left you on the bed, just long enough to get up and lock the bedroom door, before he all but tacked you back onto the bed and made you squeal.

Meanwhile, downstairs, Jack heard your bedroom door click. He sighed, trying his damnedest not to think about what might be going on upstairs.

He could storm up there and break down the door (like he was itching to do). You might be an adult, but this was still his house…

But he also didn’t want to disturb the newfound peace he’d found with you today.

Time for a drink, he decided. He grabbed his keys and headed out to the nearest bar.

Jack loved his town. He’d lived here most of his life, met his wife here, started a family and a career and all the rest here. But there was only one good bar, and that meant he was liable to run into his brother-in-law, AKA the town drunk.

Jack spotted Bobby down at the end of the bar with a young man, dark-haired and likely in his early 20s. Jack knew that your Dean was staying at Bobby’s house. Jack also knew that your Dean had a brother, Sam. This dark-haired beanpole was most likely him.

Jack didn’t know much about Dean, or his family, but he wanted to. He wanted to know more about the man in his daughter’s life.

So instead of heeding his instinct to sit at the bar alone, he made his way all the way down and greeted Sam and Bobby civilly.

“Your Dean’s brother?” Jack asked. Sam’s handshake was firm as he nodded. Jack detected the strength behind that loose-fitting flannel.

Hmm, not so much a beanpole, Jack thought.

“Yes, sir. I’m Sam,” he replied.

Jack nodded at their whiskey glasses. “Let me buy another round.”

“You don’t need to do that,” Bobby said.

“It’s all right,” Jack said. “I’ve got it.”

Bobby wasn’t sure what Jack was aiming at. They hadn’t spoken directly in a few years. But he could assume it had something to do with Dean dating the man’s daughter.

Jack turned to Sam and asked mild, probing questions. He learned that Sam had gone to college: pre-law at Stanford. He had been all set to go to law school and become a successful lawyer. Sam sounded like the kind of guy Jack would’ve preferred you end up with.

“But instead, you became a traveling exterminator,” Jack said. “What happened there?”

Dean had evaded this question before, but Sam told him something different.

“Well, uh, to be honest…something happened that kind of derailed things,” Sam said.

“Which was?” Jack asked. “If you don’t mind me asking.”

Sam met his gaze steadily, but Jack saw something deep there, held behind polite bar conversation.

“My girlfriend died,” he confessed.

Jack set down his bourbon on the counter. A tendril of guilt licked down his spine for pressing. “I’m sorry.”

Sam nodded. “After that, I spun out for a while…but Dean, he didn’t let me crash. He got me back working with him on the job. Something…constructive. It kept me going.”

Jack considered that with his glass back up to his lips.

“After my wife died, I had my work and my daughter,” he said. “That’s it. That’s my life. It’s honest.”

Sam inclined his head. The conversation continued from there, on and off while they drank. Bobby interjected every now and then, but he kept nursing his second whiskey.

Eventually though, Sam bowed out with one last shake of Jack’s hand and a pat to Bobby’s back. It left the two older men to finish their drinks.

“They’re hunters, aren’t they? Like your friend Rufus,” Jack said.

Bobby glanced at him. Then he sighed.

“Yeah,” he admitted. “But they know what they’re doing.”

Jack shook his head. Goddamn hunters.

But the more he considered his brother-in-law, your conversation with him earlier resonated in his mind.

“I get why you have a hard time remembering Mom,” you had said. “Now that I have Dean, I can’t imagine how I would feel if I lost him.”

Jack looked over at Bobby. As much as he hated to admit it, they were living the same life, more or less. He’d just had you to keep him somewhat anchored. Approaching sane and respectable. Bobby had been alone.

“It doesn’t get easier, does it?” Jack asked.

“What doesn’t?”

“Life,” he replied. “Without her.”

Bobby paused. Once he realized what Jack was really saying, he sighed once again.

“Nope,” he agreed.

“I don’t know Dean Winchester,” Jack said. “You do. Should I be worried?”

“He’s a good kid. Got some rough angles,” Bobby conceded. “But you’ll never find a more loyal man in Creation. He’d break his own neck before he’d hurt that girl.”

Jack nodded. “Good. Saves me the trouble of breakin’ it for him.”

Bobby chuckled and finished his whiskey. Jack ordered him another.

Bobby looked over at him again. “Thanks.”

Jack nodded. They drank in companionable silence until the bar closed.

The next morning, you and Dean stood outside your house on the driveway. The Impala shone next to you in the bright day’s sun. Soon, you’d have to watch the car peel away. In a way, it was harder the second time.

Dean held your cheek and kissed you nice and slow. You knew he could sense what you were feeling right now, but you tried to hold it back from your connection as much as you could.

You let your hand drift down from his shoulder to his chest, over his heart.

I love you, you wanted to say. It was poised on your tongue, but you were afraid of being the first one to say it. Maybe it was silly, but you wondered if you had gotten attached to him more quickly than he had to you.

Meanwhile, Dean sensed your anxiety and worry, but he didn’t hear your thoughts and insecurities that you were holding back. So he just chocked it up to the fact that he was leaving. Guilt nagged at his heart.

“I’ll call you,” he promised. He always promised to call, and he always did. This time, it just didn’t make you feel that much better.

But you still faked a smile and bent to grab the bagged up containers you’d put together for Sam and Dean. It was some homemade chicken parmesan and garlic rolls, which would probably last for all of a couple of hours, knowing Dean.

“Share with your brother this time,” you reminded him. Dean smirked and took the bag from you.

“No promises.”

The next few months were spent with you and Dean each focusing on your jobs. You talked on a frequent non-schedule basis: phone calls on your lunch break, on your commute before or after work, between Dean’s hunts, on long drives across state lines.

When you didn’t have time to talk, you sent emails. Yours were often longer and more detailed than Dean’s, but that was just how he spoke. Direct and to the point, albeit with one or two dirty jokes thrown in.

Sometimes all you two had time for was a brief text here and there. Dean would wish you a good morning. He’d tease you, asking what you were wearing.

“Yoga pants and a ratty old shirt,” you’d replied once.

He’d said: “Hmm, yoga pants.”

You laughed. “You’re ridiculous. I’m literally eating a pint of Ben & Jerry’s right now.”

“Ooh, what flavor?”

You’d rolled your eyes. The only thing that distracted his dirty mind was his stomach.

Sometimes you would send him a new song to listen to (which he would complain about, if it was anything past 1989).

But then that day came.

That dreaded day when Dean didn’t answer your call. It wasn’t just that he didn’t answer right then. You had finished your last tour of the museum for a class of second graders and were walking out to your car. It wasn’t unusual for Dean to hit you back later if he was mid-hunt.

So you waited until the evening without a response. A warning bell trilled in your mind, but you tried not to get worried just yet. You decided to text him.

Hey, just checking in.

You went to bed that night still waiting for his reply.

Then the morning came, and you went a little crazy. You called him twice, then Sam.

When Sam didn’t pick up, that little bell in your mind was a screaming fire alarm. It was a Friday though. You still had to go to work.

So you got ready for your day as usual, though even your manager Jerry noticed that you were distracted. You had been working at the museum for around six months now, and you had proven yourself to be a dedicated worker and enthusiastic about your work. So Jerry knew when you were having an off day.

“You all right?” he asked.

“Yeah, yeah,” you said. “It’s nothing.”

“Okay, well, you’ve got another tour in five minutes,” he reminded you, before he tsked and rushed over to a group of teenagers who were messing with the neanderthal exhibit.

You sighed. The moment you thought about checking your phone again, it rang in your pocket.

Quickly you checked who it was, your eyes widening. You answered, “Sam? Is everything okay? I’ve been calling—”

“Listen,” Sam said. “I…I need to tell you something.”

Your heart dropped into your stomach when you heard his tone. Whatever had happened, it wasn’t good.

“What happened?” you asked.

“We found our dad,” he said. “And the demon.”

You gasped and moved to a corner of the museum for some privacy. “You did? That’s…that’s great! But what—”

“We got into an accident,” said Sam. “My dad and I are okay, but Dean, he’s…”

Your breath stilled in your lungs, even as your heart started to pound.

“Where are you?” You started toward the back offices to grab your purse and fished for your car keys. While Sam told you the hospital and the city, your heels clacked on the shiny tile as you booked it to your car.

“Hey, where are you going?” Jerry asked.

You put Sam on hold for a moment and said, without hesitation (and tears in your eyes):

“I’m sorry, I have a family emergency. My boyfriend just got hit by a truck.”

AN: Aaand another cliffhanger. But I'm sure you know where this is going next...

2.01 "In My Time of Dying," in which the reader finally meets John Winchester, but she could end up losing Dean for good this time.

(Also, there are just a few more chapters after this. I promise I won't go through the entire show lol.)

To keep reading: PART 9

Series Masterlist

Dean Winchester Masterlist

Main Masterlist

@curlycarley @buckywenal24 @jamerlynn @iprobablyshipit91 @globetrotter28 @deamus-liv @irgendwas122 @deans-spinster-witch @dogbarkbark4445 @my-proof-is-you @vera0124 @deans-baby-momma @lacilou @samanddeaninatrenchcoat @happygoodvibe @theonlymaninthesky @spnexploration @itzabbyxx @cevans-winchester @imagineteller1ller1 @icequeen1371 @mininjageek @tiredqueen73 @bitchwitch1981 @abbigaleelizabeth @ohgodthebogisback @where-the-river-bends @loveprof6 @thespnlover

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hellodarling1357 · 2 months

Text

The 1 (Part 1) - Cassian x Reader

and if my wishes came true, it would’ve been you...

137 years, 6 months, 2 weeks, and 3 days.

That was how long you had lived in your safe and happy bubble of delusion. It was just a shame it wasn’t meant to last.

~~~~~

Hi! So this fic is going to very loosly inspired by a bunch of Taylor Swift songs that were recently requested. Just a heads up that there's no guarantee of a happy ending...

Enjoy 🥰

Word Count: 1.5k

Having met the Night Court General at a meeting between the courts, you immediately found yourself intrigued. His presence had been rough and demanding, lethal and sharp, and as he stood beside the Shadowsinger, both sets of hazel eyes surveying the congregated fae from their positions behind their High Lord, you couldn’t help your own assessment of the Illyrian before you.

Your initial attraction came from his appearance; tanned skin, powerful muscles, and the most gorgeous set of eyes you had ever seen – you were very easy to please. But it had been within the hour following the meeting’s conclusion where you found yourself wanting, needing, to find out more.

Walking along the spanning corridors of the Dawn Court's palace, you had been so mesmerised by the view that lay beyond the floor-to-ceiling windows that you didn’t sense someone approaching until you had turned the corner and bumped straight into them. The mass of a body before you would've sent you near toppling to the floor if it hadn't been for the sudden grasp of large, calloused hands on your shoulders that hauled you back up and lingered until you were stable on your feet again.

“I’m so sorry,” Your face was burning in embarrassment, the colour only darkening as you took in the sight of the male before you. “I clearly wasn’t paying attention to where I was going.”

“Don’t worry about it, I’m not the one who almost landed on my ass. Are you alright?” The furrow of his brows and the way his eyes looked you up and down in concern has you shifting on the spot.

“I’m fine…” You let your words trail, not knowing what else to say with your mind seemingly going blank in the General’s presence. Hazel eyes scrutinized your face, as though searching for a hint that you were anything but fine.

Allowing another moment of silence, you awkwardly cleared your throat as you shifted again.

“Well, I should probably go–”

“I’m Cassian, by the way. I don’t think we’ve met?”

A shy laugh escaped you as you smiled up at Cassian who was giving you an amused look, having both spoken at the same time.

“I’m Y/N.”

“Hi, Y/N.”

“Hi, Cassian.”

You were both coyly grinning now, shaking your head with a giggle at the absurdness in which the conversation had veered.

Another beat of silence had you repeating, “I should go,” before offering Cassian another small smile and sidestepping past him into the continuous stretch of corridor, lit up in hues of orange and red from the slowly setting sun.

“Wait,” You turned on the spot, hoping it didn’t come off as too eager. “What court are you from?”

“Day. You’re from the Night Court.”

“I am,” he sounded almost smug in his response, “You seem to know an awful lot about me for someone I’ve never met.”

“Hardly,” you laughed. “It’s not every day that a new High Lord comes in and immediately dismisses the entirety of the previous council, only to have it reinstated with Illyrians, and females, no less. Your High Lord created quite a stir.” You noted the clench of his jaw at your words, watching as he cocked his head at you, eyes somewhat narrowing in predatorial assessment.

“Is that an issue for you?” His voice was suddenly hard and sharp, the voice of the General, arms crossing over his broad chest as his eyes continued to sweep your face, “Sharing status with Illyrians, that is?”

“No,” You replied, immediately relaxing as you watched Cassian’s body release its tension. “Too many high fae in a room can get awfully stuffy, having you lot waltz in made today’s meeting quite refreshing.”

“Oh.”

“We’re not all as prejudice as some, General.” You give him another smile before continuing down the corridor.

“I’ll see you around then?”

“I’m sure you will.” You called over your shoulder, giddily grinning to yourself for being able to stay so calm and collected in the presence of such a god-like male.

The way that Cassian could switch from General of the Night Court armies, Lord of Bloodshed himself, to a flirty, caring, almost boyish, male definitely lit the flame of intrigue. But you knew there was more under the surface to what he presented in court and decided then and there that you would do anything in your power to find out everything you could about him.

*****

That initial meeting between you and Cassian set in motion the fast formation of a close friendship. While the courts all reset and realigned in the wake of two new High Lords, you found yourself in Cassian’s presence quite frequently as new alliances were formed and strengthened.

“Y/N, thank you for meeting me,” You nodded your head in greeting at your High Lord, offering a smile as you walked towards Helion’s desk and took a seat as you waited for him to continue. “I trust you are well?”

“Very well, thank you.”

“Good, good,” He leant forward on his elbows, resting his chin on his hands as he watched you for another moment.

“That new Illyrian General is something.” He mused, a slight smirk playing at the corner of his mouth as he quirked an eyebrow at you.

“My lord?”

“Y/N, we’ve worked together for long enough now. You know there’s no need for the formalities,” A small smile tugged at your lips, aware of having been previously told to simply call him Helion but still finding the familiarity in the face of a High Lord somewhat jarring.

“Yes,” He continued, observing you with a knowing look. “He's quite attractive too, wouldn’t you agree?”

“I- Uh, I suppose so,” Stumbling over your words, you felt a slight blush rise to your cheeks as that knowing glance continued in its assessment of you.

“Well, putting that aside, I’ve noticed you’ve grown quite close to him, along with the others in Rhysand’s circle,” You nodded, feeling a little caught out, as though you had done something wrong in fraternising with another court. Squirming in your seat, you avoided your High Lord’s gaze.

“Which is why,” he finally continued, putting you out of your misery, “I have decided to promote you to the Day Court’s personal Emissary to the Night Court. Your main focus will be on strengthening our alliance with them, engaging them in such a way that we are seen as their friend, their ally,”

He paused for a moment, letting the words sink in, “With this new change in power, and with such a seemingly progressive High Lord now in charge, I believe that all of Prythian can expect a great deal to come of it, and I would like us to be there alongside Rhysand, helping to structure these changes for the better.”

“Oh,” You were at a loss for words, “I – uh… Are you sure? Thank you, of course. It’s just that, well, surely Aldous would be more qualified? He’s been your Emissary for decades, I’m just one of his assistants.”

“Y/N, firstly, is this a position you would be interested in pursuing?”

“Well, yes, of course. But–” Helion cut you off with a slight raise of his hand, the amusement gleaming in his eyes helped to ease some of your tension and uncertainty.

“Then it’s decided. And – no, if you’re going to imply that you aren’t qualified, rest assured that I have received multiple recommendations. I believe wholeheartedly that you’re perfect for this role,” You grinned sheepishly; the very words of doubt stolen from the tip of your tongue.

“Besides, as we previously discussed, your newfound connection with certain members of the Night Court will be more than beneficial in this role, wouldn’t you say?”

“I suppose so...”

“You accept my offer then?”

“Yes. Yes, of course I do. Thank you.”

“I was hoping you would say that,” The gentle smile your High Lord offers sent all further doubts scurrying away, paving the way for your excitement to settle in. “Given the nature of this role, you will be required to spend copious amounts of time between our two courts. However, after discussing this proposition with Rhysand, he is more than happy to grant you both safe access and accommodation whilst you’re in his care. He has assured me that you will be treated as though you were a member of his own court.”

Despite the time spent with his inner circle, you were yet to officially meet Rhysand. Well aware of the reputation and stories that followed the Night Court and its legacy, you couldn’t lie to yourself and say you weren’t somewhat hesitant at the thought of residing there, especially if all you had heard about the Hewn City were true. However, with the words your own High Lord had just spoken, and given the company Rhysand kept, your wariness eased exponentially.

“When do I start?”

#cassian x reader #cassian acotar #cassian x y/n #rhysand acotar #azriel acotar #helion acotar #cassian fluff #cassian angst #nessian #cassian x nesta #nesta archeron #marley writes

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sokoviansimp · 10 months

Note

can you please do one of wanda and nat x child reader and getting them to do homework and eat hahahahah i love ur fics btw it makes me feel so warm

✒ Pairings: Wanda Maximoff, Natasha Romanoff x Child!Reader (platonic)

✒ Summary: Wanda and Nat try to get you to do your homework and eat your vegetables.

✒ Tags and Warnings: Homework, stubbornness, fluff, anxiety, making friends

✒ Author's Note: I really appreciate the request! I thought this was such a good idea, hopefully, I did it justice! Sorry, it took so long. To the other requests in my inbox, I am sorry I am so slow but I will be getting to them, they're all so good :)

✒ Word Count: 4744+

✒ Read Time: 24 minutes

Masterlist : The Package AU : Socials

“It sounds like a good opportunity, I don’t think it’s ever really too early to start” Nat urged.

“I guess, but she’s just so young,” Wanda claimed as she moved to join her friend on the couch.

“They’ll all be her age, it’s just for a week,” Nat insisted.

Nat had found a program for young children to learn science and math for a week, it was kind of like a day camp. The parents would drop off the young children daily for 4 hours of hands-on learning. She thought this would be good for you since you have been following very closely in Peter’s footsteps when it comes to his interest in math and science. It would also introduce you to a school setting so that it isn’t so far out of your comfort zone next year when you go to attend preschool.

To be truthful, you and Wanda were all Nat could think about lately. She wanted so badly to be there for you two, to help you achieve success and be given opportunities that she could’ve only dreamed of at your age. This sent her down a rabbit hole searching for events or activities you could take part in. Most of them were geared toward older children, but the science camp stated all ages so she jumped on it.

Wanda was hesitant about the program, she didn’t want to push school onto you too early. You should be able to enjoy the time before it completely takes over your life for 14+ years. Nat had a point though, it’s only a week and you would probably really love it. She wasn’t sure how you would react to being left without her all day though, hopefully, now that you have been coming out of your shell the process would be easier but it was hard to say.

Though, it’s inevitable that this will need to happen eventually. One week of practice would be helpful to smooth out the process once it's mandatory. Wanda really admired the way Nat was so enthusiastic about this program, like the way her voice became more animated and expressive. Wanda could hear the slight rise in her tone as she described the activities that you’d get to experience, and the way she leaned closer in proximity to show off the different amenities on the webpage had Wanda holding her breath and overthinking every little movement of her body. As she got lost in the sparkle in Natasha’s eyes, she couldn't help but scrutinize herself for making everything so awkward, ‘don’t move, don’t breathe. Okay, breathe but slowly. Does she notice? why is this making me feel this way? It’s not like we’ve never been close to each other before.’

“What do you think?” Nat jolted her from her spiraling thoughts, both mentally and slightly physically as Wanda startlingly looked at her. Of course, she hadn’t been paying attention to a thing Nat was saying, but she couldn’t know that.

“Hmm, yea that sounds great,” she admitted, hoping she hadn’t just agreed to send you to a shield boot camp or something that only Natasha would find fun.

“Really?” Nat was beaming at the fact that Wanda liked her idea and genuinely hoped you would have a great time.

“Ye- yea, I mean, it’s just a week and she’s going to have to get used to spending time without us.” Wanda went on to explain.

Natasha's heart skipped a beat. Us. She knew what Wanda meant by it and even though she recognized it wasn’t anything that she should read into, Nat couldn't help but analyze it. Such a simple phrase, but it had the prospect to hold so much meaning. Wanda had included her in her vision of your future, as a unit, as us. In reality, Wanda knew Natasha would always be there for you, but Natasha couldn’t help but feel a wave of warmth and happiness wash over her at the thought of it meaning something more, causing her cheeks to flush and a smile to form on her face.

When Wanda and Nat told you about the camp, you were initially really excited, until you found out that you’d have to go alone. Sure, they would drop you off, but then they would leave, and then, who would protect you if something went wrong? Who would be there to hold you when you got nervous around the crowd of unfamiliar faces?

“Mama?” you broke the silence as you sat snuggled into her side on the couch of the common room, enveloped in mostly darkness except for the soft glow from the television.

“Yes, detka?” she glanced down at you as your head tilted up to meet your eyes with hers.

“Do I have to go to da sciewence schoowl?” you asked softly, just barely above a whisper, not wanting to make trouble but you couldn’t get the fact that you would have to go alone out of your mind.

Wanda immediately shifted her full attention to you in an attempt to create a safe and open space for you to express your worries, “I thought you were excited?”

“Well, I am- I was, but, I don't want to go wiffout you or Natty.” you admitted as you translated your fears from thoughts into words.

"I see, I understand that you're feeling nervous about going without us, and that's completely okay, my love. It's natural to feel a little anxious when we step out of our comfort zone," she said as she gently rubbed your arm in soothing motions. She wanted to help you work through these feelings instead of blocking off new opportunities due to fear. In the end, she wouldn’t force you to go, but she would do everything she could to get you open to the experience.

“You know, even adults get feelings like these when they're about to try something new or go to unfamiliar places. I remember when I first joined the Avengers, I felt a mix of excitement and nerves. But you know what?”

“What?”

“It turned out to be an incredible journey filled with wonderful people and unforgettable adventures. I got to meet my two favorite people in the whole world"

“Me?” your expression shifted from nervous to curious, as you wondered where Wanda was going with this.

“Yes you, and Nat,” she says unable to mask the smile that forms near automatically from the mention of her best friend.

“What if, der is no one der for me?” you wonder

"You will have so many other kids there that are your age that you can make friends with, malysh"

“What if dey don’t wike me?” You were genuinely worried about meeting other kids your age. You’ve only ever been around adults and you weren’t quite sure what to expect. Would they all already know each other? Would there be a certain way you were expected to act around them?

"What’s not to like? You have the kindest heart and the most beautiful spirit of anyone I know.” she was speaking from the heart as she genuinely believed what she told you. Wanda watched you go from this scared little girl who was being held captive in a Hydra base to a kid who gets excited to talk about the solar system and wildlife habitats with Peter. She watched you open up and accept these people, even the men on the team, into your life despite your wariness. She’s sure you are capable of anything you really put your mind to, “Making friends has one simple rule and if you follow it, it's practically foolproof, do you know what that is?”

You just shook your head in response, waiting for her to continue.

“Just be yourself. If you do that you'll attract real friends who appreciate you for who you are," she said as she tapped your chest, pointing to your heart.

“Be myself?” you wondered what it meant as you repeated the words on your own tongue. You don’t recall ever acting like someone else. “Who else would I be?”

Wanda couldn't help but chuckle at your innocence and how cute you were, “Some people try to change for others. They change their personalities, their opinions, and sometimes even their looks just to fit in with other people.”

“Oh. so, wike, pwetending?”

"Exactly! You are capable of so much more than you realize, my little one. Have faith in yourself."

You thought over her words as the show continued to play in front of you on the TV. You were so close to being on board with it, but you couldn’t get over the possibility of being stuck there without a way out. The way Wanda spoke so highly of you, gave you the confidence you needed to believe you could make friends, but what if everything really did go horribly wrong, would you be stuck there all day?

“Mama?” you continued the conversation after a few minutes of watching tv had passed.

“Hmm?”

“I want to go to da sciewence schoowl, but what if I need you when I der?”

Wanda thought about this for a moment, You're far too young to have a cell phone, but a communication line wouldn’t be such a bad thing for you. It could help calm your anxiety and in her line of work, anything could happen so it would make things safer.

“Well, if there is something really important, you can tell your teacher and she can get ahold of me,” Wanda explained. You didn’t seem too satisfied with that answer though as you gave a somber acknowledgment. What if you weren't able to get the teacher's attention, or the teacher just plain refused, the plan just didn't seem very solid.

Wanda could see that you weren’t content with her solution, “Or I can show you a trick,” she offered.

Your face perked up, immediately intrigued, your little hands clutching a stuffed toy tightly, gazed up at Wanda with wide-eyed wonder, “a trick?” you asked

“Close your eyes, my little one,” Wanda explained and you did as she instructed, “now, take a deep breath. Imagine a warm light surrounding us, enveloping us like a soft, protective blanket. or a big fluffy cloud”

As you sat with your eyes closed, a serene smile graced Wanda's face. She concentrated, allowing her own powers to flow through her, and extended her thoughts toward you. With a gentle touch of her mind, she created a bridge between your thoughts, a telepathic connection unique to you.

"Now, detka," Wanda whispered, "I want you to think of something you want to tell me, but without saying it out loud. Just focus on the feeling and the words in your mind."

Your brows furrowed and your face scrunched in concentration, your little face reflecting the effort of trying to convey your thoughts through this newfound connection. Wanda could feel your tiny mind reaching out tentatively, like a fragile thread stretching between the two of you.

With each passing moment, the connection grew stronger, and soon your eyes fluttered open, revealing a mixture of surprise and delight. "Mama, can you hear me?" your innocent voice echoed softly between your minds, blending with the quiet hum of the room.

Wanda's heart swelled with joy as she nodded, her eyes shimmering with pride. "Yes, dorogoy, I can hear you!" she exclaimed, "Our thoughts are connected now, and no matter where we are, we can talk to each other like this. Whenever you need me, I will be there for you,” she explained.

In that magical moment, your minds intertwined, You two shared a connection that transcended words. With telepathy, you could communicate your deepest thoughts, dreams, and feelings, strengthening the unbreakable bond between mother and child. Perhaps most importantly to you though, you were able to reach Wanda without the confines of distance.

As you sat there, immersed in your newfound ability, Wanda couldn't help but marvel at the wonder of it all. She knew that this telepathic connection would serve as a source of comfort and reassurance for you, a constant reminder that you were always connected, even when physically apart.

With that, you were content with the decision to attend the science camp. Not only that, but you were excited again. Instead of focusing on the parts that worried you, you were able to shift your focus onto all the exciting things you were bound to learn and discover. Your mind ran wild with outrageous theories, like discovering fossils or trying to figure out the speed of a flamingo by simply racing beside it.

The first day of camp approached rather quickly. In the days leading up, you would often use your new ability to have silent conversations with Wanda. Sometimes you would do it to practice and make sure that you still could when you needed to, and other times you did it to express feelings and emotions that you had trouble translating into words.

Wanda and Nat were both there to drop you off on your first day, you were less nervous than they expected you to be which they were grateful for. Now that you were able to contact Wanda you felt safe in exploring new experiences alone, and maybe that's because you never felt alone, because she would always be there for you if you needed.

The camp was divided into different age groups. The majority of the kids were 4th and 5th graders, but there was a small group of children your age. Wanda and Nat were grateful that you would have enough children to socialize with but not so many that it would seem overwhelming. Hopefully, with the smaller group, it would be easier to make friends.

In fact, you didn't even get to the classroom before you made your first friend, “Hi, I’m Matthew, what's your name?” you turned to the voice that spoke behind you, “Hi! I’m Y/N” you greeted. “Y/N! Dat’s a cool name! You wike space too? I wove space!” he mentioned as he noticed your shirt that showed a playful astronaut floating in space, holding a slice of pizza in one hand and giving a thumbs-up with the other reading Pizza Planet Explorer, “Wanna be fwreinds?” he asked.

You were caught off guard by how quickly he spoke and became distracted, but of course, you wanted to make friends and you already had something in common, “Yes, we can be fwreinds, I love space too. My favowite planet is Saturn” you enthusiastically replied.

“I wike Jupiter da most cuz it’s da biggest,” Matthew responded.

The two of you sat next to each other throughout the demonstrations and even shared a table at lunch. Wanda had packed you a container of yogurt, sliced strawberries and baby carrots, and some Mini turkey and cheese roll-ups which were basically just a turkey sandwich rolled into bite-sized pieces for easy eating. At the bottom of your lunch box, there was a note that read,

My Dearest Y/N,

I hope you're having a wonderful day at school! I am so incredibly proud of you. Remember, my little superhero, you have the power to do anything you set your mind to. Each day, you're growing stronger, smarter, and more amazing. I can't wait to hear all about your day when you come home. Keep shining bright, my sunshine.

With all my love,

Mama

You couldn’t help but smile as you attempted to read the note, you still weren’t really able to read but you were able to pick out keywords like love, smarter, amazing, and superhero, so you got the vibe and felt comforted by it, which is all Wanda had hoped for.

“What’s dat?” Matthew asked as he saw you set the note down next to your baby carrots. “Oh, my mama wrote me a note” you explained.

“Oh wow, she must really love you,” he stated as he wondered why he never received any notes with his meal.

“Yea, she does,” you said with a gleaming smile.

You managed to survive the entire day without contacting Wanda at all. She hoped it was a good sign as she and Nat headed to pick you up. They were made sure to be there 5 minutes before pick-up so that you wouldn’t have to wait, knowing you’d be excited to see them and tell them all about how it went.

As soon as the door opened for dismissal, you immediately found Wanda’s green eyes and ran full speed with your arms stretched out reaching for a hug. She enveloped tightly you as she lifted you off the ground for a long embrace. The two were happy to see that your face was filled with nothing but joy.

Wanda continued to carry you as the three of you headed toward the car. Wanda ducked into the driver's seat after getting you settled into your car-seat and Nat took the seat next to you in the back so that she could hear all about your day.

“Sooo, how was it? Tell us all about it!” Nat insisted.

“Was so fun! We learned bout uhm- OH! JUPITER HAS A RAINSTORM! And Mafwew said dat if we went to space, der wouldn’t be any noise.”

“Matthew?” Wanda asked as she caught glimpses of you speaking through her rear view mirror.

“Yea mama! My new fwiend! He wikes space tew!” you excitedly announced. You went on to tell them all about the things that you learned and how much fun you had with Matthew. Tomorrow couldn't come quick enough.

“Did they give you any homework?” Nat asked once you had finished.

“Oh yea, is in my bag” you answered as you showed Nat where it was in your bag. She read over the instructions and mentioned that you could do it right when you got home. The assignment wasn’t anything too difficult, but it sure was time-consuming.

The project was about energy and showing how much we consume every day. The worksheet was laid out so that all you had to fill in were blocks of color. You were given a piece to plug into your outlets and once you had the item mentioned plugged in, it would show an amount. Then you had to fill in the bubble that corresponded with the range on your outlet.

Nat and Wanda both helped you through this but you soon became bored and no longer wanted to do it. It was so repetitive and your toys were sitting right there just waiting to be played with. Eventually you got through it without making too much of a fuss and you could finally get on with what you wanted to do, except that didn't last long because before you knew it, Wanda was telling you it was bathtime.

“But mama, I just stawrted pwlayin” you said somberly.

Wanda wanted to give you more time to play but it was already getting late and you had to be up early tomorrow, “I know, I’m sorry baby, but it’s late and you need a bath before camp tomorrow.” Without a fight, you reluctantly followed hoping that tomorrow would be better.

When you arrived home from camp the next day, the same dreaded question was asked, “Do you have any homework today?” You remembered how long and grueling your homework was last night, and instead of showing them the papers that your teacher gave you, today, you simply shook your head. Of course, Nat, the trained super spy, noticed the hesitation in your response as the gears turned in your brain and saw right through you. Deciding that she would look in your bag herself once you all arrive at the compound.

You immediately ran to the common room to play with your toys. Natasha, in the kitchen with Wanda, investigated your bag as Wanda cleaned your lunch box. “No homework huh?” Nat muttered as she held up your papers for Wanda to see. They shared a knowing look as Nat mentioned she would talk to you while Wanda finished cleaning out your lunch.

Natasha entered the common room, a concerned expression on her face, holding your backpack in her hand. She had a feeling something was off when you claimed there was no homework. She sat down next to you, as you played with your toys.

"Hey, sweetheart," Natasha said gently, placing the bag on the coffee table. "I happened to find something interesting in your backpack. Do you want to explain why you said you didn't have any homework?"

Your eyes widened, realizing you had been caught in your little white lie. You fidgeted with your toys, avoiding Natasha's gaze. "I... I didn't want to do it. It- it takes SOO long, and den I don’t get to play." you admitted.

Natasha reached out and gently turned your face towards her, meeting your eyes. "Sweetheart, I understand that homework can sometimes feel dull, but it's important to be honest with us. We're here to help and support you, but we need to know what's going on."

Wanda entered the room once your bag was all cleaned. Sensing the tension, she knelt down beside Natasha and spoke in a reassuring tone. "Y/N, we want you to succeed in everything you do. And that includes being honest, even when it's hard. We're a family, and families trust and support each other."

A family.

Natasha noticed the term and felt elated that she was included in the phrase. The three of you were a family. It didn’t matter whether Wanda and Nat were best friends, or something more than that; the three of you were family. You felt their endless love, even if they hadn’t figured out that part of that love lay within each other.

Your lower lip quivered, realizing the weight of your actions. "I'm sorry, Natty. I didn't mean to lie."

Natasha's expression softened, and she pulled you into a comforting hug. "It's okay, sweetheart. We all make mistakes, and the important thing is to learn from them. Let's work on being honest with each other, alright?"

Wanda joined the hug, enveloping you both in her warm embrace. "We love you, Y/N, no matter what. And we're here to help you with your homework too. It doesn't have to be boring. We can find fun and creative ways to learn together."

You sniffled, feeling a mix of relief and remorse. They were right. Lying wasn't the solution, and you knew deep down that they were always there to support her. You nodded, determined to make things right.

“It can be fun?” you wondered how they planned to turn such a mundane task into something, fun.

“We can turn it into a special challenge!" Nat chimed in

You looked up, curious about the proposal. "A challenge?"

Wanda chimed back in, joining the conversation. "That's right, sweetheart! We'll create a reward system for each task you complete. Once you finish your homework, we can all have a movie night or make your favorite dessert together."

Your eyes lit up with excitement. "Really? We can have a movie night?"

Natasha nodded. "Absolutely! But first, we need to get those homework assignments done. Let's break it down into smaller tasks, so it feels less overwhelming. We'll be right here with you, cheering you on."

Wanda took your hand and sat beside you at the table. Nat and Wanda each took turns reading different questions out for you.

With their gentle encouragement and the promise of a fun reward, you felt motivated. They both stayed by your side, offering guidance and praise as you worked through each task. They made the process enjoyable by adding some playful moments and even turning math problems into little games.

As you completed each question, you couldn't help but feel a sense of accomplishment. With every finished task, you grew more confident and proud of yourself. By the time you completed your last assignment, you practically beamed with joy. Almost as if homework was just as fun as playtime with your toys.

Natasha and Wanda gathered around you, excitedly applauding your efforts. "Great job, Y/N! You did it!" Natasha exclaimed.

Wanda hugged you tightly. "We're so proud of you, sweetheart."

You grinned, feeling a sense of pride and happiness wash over you. With your two favorite people by your side, even homework could turn into an adventure filled with love and support; and as promised, you all enjoyed a delightful movie night, celebrating your achievements. You had shocked both Wanda and Nat with your choice of movie for the night, Planet 51, purely because it was something other than Frozen.

For the rest of the week, Natasha and Wanda made it a point to create a positive and engaging homework routine for you. They turned studying into a fun activity, incorporating games, rewards, and plenty of encouragement. You learned that honesty and open communication were far more rewarding than any short-lived escape from homework.

Together, you tackled assignments, explored new concepts, and celebrated each milestone. You discovered that learning could be an exciting journey, especially when shared with your favorite people.

A few days later, the aroma of a freshly cooked meal wafted through the air of the kitchen, tempting your taste buds and filling the room with mouthwatering scents as you sat patiently at the table. Once Wanda had begun serving up plates of food, you noticed that the meal was something that you had no interest in eating. Your once adventurous appetite had transformed into a discerning palate, making mealtime a challenge for your loving guardians, Natasha and Wanda.

"Come on, Y/N," Natasha coaxed, her voice gentle but firm. "You need to eat your vegetables. They'll make you strong like a superhero."

Your bottom lip jutted out, and you crossed her arms, proclaiming, "I don't like vegables, Natty!"

Wanda, with her patient demeanor, joined in, her voice filled with warmth. "But sweetheart, vegetables have magical powers! They can give you energy to run fast like-" Wanda abruptly cut her sentence short at the sudden realization that you had never met her brother. Pietro never had the chance to become an uncle before his life was tragically taken from her, him. She struggled to come up with a new comparison, as her mind was scrambling to revive her sentence. Nat immediately picked up on Wanda’s distress and quickly put a reassuring hand on Wanda’s shoulder as she took over, “They can make you strong like Mr. Bucky and Peter,” Nat concluded.

The presence of Nat’s hand on her shoulder quelled Wanda’s mind from running in circles trying to backpedal as she focused on the way it felt to have Nat soothingly move her hand from her shoulder to her back in a messy circular motion, subconsciously leaning into her ever so slightly.

You glanced skeptically at the colorful array of vegetables on your plate. "Really?"

Natasha nodded, a playful sparkle in her eyes. "Absolutely! And if you eat your vegetables, you might even develop some superpowers of your own."

You carried the skepticism into your look back to Nat, “I alweady hab powers!” You said as you called her out.

Nat’s eyes widened ever so slightly as she remembered that little detail but you didn’t catch the slight crack in her resolve. She was so used to treating you like a kid, like a normal kid, that she began to suppress the fact that you are in fact enhanced yourself, “New ones,” she responded as she covered up her slight oversight.

Wanda smiled as she watched the interaction, her voice filled with excitement. "Perhaps you'll develop the power to talk to animals or create beautiful flowers with just a wave of your hand."

Your imagination ignited, and you tentatively reached for a small piece of broccoli, eyeing it with newfound intrigue. Hesitantly taking a bite, to your surprise, a burst of flavor danced on your tongue.

"Yummy!," You exclaimed, a hint of both shock and amazement in your voice.

Natasha and Wanda exchanged triumphant glances, their plan unfolding successfully. They knew that sometimes a dash of imagination and a sprinkle of superhero magic were all it took to conquer a picky eater's heart.

Encouraged by your enthusiasm, Natasha and Wanda continued to weave tales of vegetable-powered adventures, turning each bite into a step closer to unlocking extraordinary powers. With every vegetable conquered, your confidence grew, and soon the plate was empty—a victorious battle won against the picky eater dilemma.

As you savored the last bite, you looked up at Natasha and Wanda, a bright smile lighting up your face. "I did it! I ate all my vegebles, just wike a real superhero!"

Natasha and Wanda shared a proud glance, their hearts brimming with joy. Together, they celebrated the triumph of a small victory, knowing that love, creativity, and a touch of superhero magic had transformed a picky eater into a courageous little hero.

Taglist: @mymommawanda@livslifeonline@reggierizzoli@mythixmagic@lesbicentism@marvelogic@katethewriter @inluvwithfictionalwomen @spooky-reader1 @marvelogic @kissforvoid

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yanverse · 4 months

Note

conrad my beloved 🥹 he’s not gonna win against the sheer force that is harley chicken man in the polls but he’s still number one in my heart <3

i think he’s been too uwu lonely russian boy from a small village in his tag lately from ur og blog so i wanna know what he’s like when he snaps hehe

like how would he hunt down and punish a darling who’s been affectionately biding her time to escape when he’s out hunting? cause idk if he’d be as scary as ilya but i would welcome it 👀

want scary conrad? i can give you scary conrad.....<3

hunted -- conrad dmitriev

(cws: DDDNE, yandere, stalking, kidnapping, violence against reader, blood, injuries, guns/knives, cutting/scarring, implied somno/noncon, manipulation, death mentions)

word count: 2k

Not even the pitch of the settling dark could mask the eyes that follow you between the trees.

These woods aren't for the faint of heart. Those who live here were born here, survived here, and will inevitably die here. Considering there's only been one–at least in recent memory–who has escaped that curse, it's clear to anyone with sight that this harrowing corner of the world is meant for only two things; locals and wildlife.

And trees, of course. Enough to cluster in scattered array, leaving only tiny clearings in between in which to get your bearings, though you can never really stop moving in this cold. The snow isn't so much a hindrance as it is a hurdle; glaringly obstructive in the way caution tape would be around a bloody car crash. It should be circumvented with great caution by those who don't wish despair upon their own selves, yet here you are in the thick of it. Cold, wet, and completely, utterly lost.

Conrad warned you of these dangers, but you ignored him. Why would you possibly take the advice of someone who betrayed you? His whole story was made up of lies–why he was conveniently in the area the night you came across each other, what exactly he had to do with your car that seemingly sprouted an issue from nowhere, and who he even was altogether. Course, you could've been a touch more scrutinizing…you can't exactly imagine, at least not easily, that a man who lives almost entirely alone in an isolated forest of the country could live comfortably with his sanity still intact. He isn't just an ice fisher that sells his produce to the near-zero visitors of this confusing wasteland. Conrad is a killer. A killer for hire, no less.

And right now, unbeknownst to you, you're his next target….well, unknowingly until your footsteps halt in the knee-deep snow for a breather, and the softest click sounds right at the base of your skull. You don't need to turn your head to see. Nobody else would make it this far without leaving footprints in this awful snow.

“Malyshka.” That word bleeds into you with every syllable, puffed hotly over the skin of your ear from behind. It stirs up memories, good ones for once, of that loving nickname uttered in laughter and scorn and a teasing lilt as Conrad takes you by the hand and waltzes you through his living room. The tinny scratchiness of his cheap, portable radio gave the cabin a hum that still resonates in your veins, but you can't go back to that world even if you wanted to. That place will forever be tainted with the memories of Conrad's twisted fascination with you, permanently marred by deceit and thinly-veiled manipulation.

It doesn't seem like that matters at all to your former lover, however. Because when Conrad grips your arm in that deathly squeeze, you get the sense immediately that he's betting on taking you back. He's going to walk you through the snow right back where you came from, and he's going to be so angry he won't sleep for days. That's what you think.

The butt of his rifle cracking you in the skull isn't what you expected, however. The crunch of bone under the varnished chunk of wood sickens you to the core of your soul, a warmth exploding out from your hair and splattering the ground as you immediately collapse forward. Your dead weight sinks you deep into the snow, but even then, and even in your dazed state, you feel it's much shallower here than before. Maybe that's why Conrad waited to corner you here–maybe it will be easier to pile the snow on top of your body when he kills you in his rage.

Time slows to a tick all of a sudden. Conrad's boots crunching in the snow around you ripples a series of shivers through you, your warm body growing colder by the minute as he circles you like a hungry predator. Shiiing, click, thummp. The sound of his gun being slung over his shoulder catches your focus, and then the distinct slice through the sheath as Conrad pulls out his knife. You know the one. That thing is big. And sharp. You cut your hand on it once accidentally and he just about lost his mind with worry. Doesn't seem like he's all too concerned about that now, though.

Although his voice carries between the whispers and howls of the wind, you couldn't understand him if you tried. You've lost the privilege of Conrad speaking your language, evidently, because while he is addressing you not a word of it is in English. It's just another way to control you…another way to show you his love, if he were to spin it that way.

A beat of silence passes without note. He's stopped moving. You can feel him, his body heat, hovering over you from above. The knife is probably just dangling in his hand, wondering if he should drop it or bring your life to an end with force, grant you some kind of small mercy as he takes you apart before finally slitting your throat like a hunted animal. Conrad stands waiting, watching you lie motionless and dizzy in the snow, and even once you feel him sink to his knees on top of you there's no strength in you to move. Blood pools at the base of your neck from the gash he's probably left in your head. I'm going to die. Your own voice ringing from within triggers you into a push, your fingernails digging into hard, packed snow as you try to lift yourself up–but even though he doesn't hit you a second time, Conrad isn't gentle as he grips your neck and shoves you back down.

“Still.” He quietly mumbles amid the harsh breeze whistling past your ears. “Stay, malyshka.”

Clearly, he wanted an answer. Your silence is more than enough of one however, and with a swing and an arc of the blade your lover is rrrrrrripping your clothes apart, knife cutting cleanly up the back of the too-thin flannel that you stole in lieu of a proper coat. Through the layers underneath he slices with practiced ease, catching patches of skin with the tip but not allowing the beads of blood to distract him from his task. Your eyes dart sideways to see his gloved fingers carving out a lump of snow from near your head, a few trickles of blood from your wound staining the purity of those white, soft haloes. He raises it quick and your arms tense at the feeling of that sting hitting your bare back–but it isn't the blade first, it's that clump of snow dragging down your flesh…the knife comes straight after that, piercing your aching skin as insult to injury, and his deep, sudden strokes that split you apart have you writhing and kicking out on the ground in agony.

Pure, violent hatred spills out of you in those moments, your screams echoing off the trees with just the same tremor as the howling, squealing winds blowing through the mountains. Conrad only cares for your pain when it impedes his progress, his knee coming down harshly on your lower back to keep you from squirming away as he makes his cuts. He must be trying to dig your organs out, he's killing you, he's surely tracing out your most valuable spots with such aggressive stabs of unconscionable, burning, violent torment. Will he wait for you to die? Will he make sure before he leaves? Will he drag your corpse back home with him, frozen and stiff, or will he leave you for the wolves and bears and god knows what else out in these woods?

As your blood drains into the snow, those thoughts become less and less urgent. As your willpower fades into numbness, the cold pressing into your back grows from a sting into a shaking, fragile numbness that spreads outward. You must be dying now, you can only imagine that your body will give out at any moment if Conrad doesn't stop. It hasn't even occurred to you yet that he has stopped, not until you catch a peripheral glimpse of his black-cloaked hand cleaning the blade in the snow. It's your blood that trickles down the handle…and there's so much of it you're on the verge of losing all hope. There's only the tiniest, faintest glimmer left, and it's fading just as fast as your consciousness.

“...Look how pretty you are now, malyshka.”

Those words will haunt you into death, you're most certain. They're the last ones to linger in your ears as the whiteness grows dark, and your eyes flutter closed while the sound of a drip, drip, drip echoes your dreamless sleep…

Drip, drip, drip.

You'd know the sound anywhere. It's easier to listen to without that wind howling in your ears, but it's going to be harder to locate. This time, when your eyes open within the warmth of a closed-in room, gratitude isn't the first thing you feel for surviving another night in this dense nightmare.

It's pain. Hot, unbearable, searing pain, violating you in senses inconceivable as it crawls in waves down your back; violent, stiffening, and like a hot iron being pressed up and down and up and down on constant repeat. The warm air of the cabin isn't helping at all as it hits your marked flesh, it's only drawing further attention towards the dripping of something warm down your legs, but at the very least you can tell by the pillow you've drooled on that you're not laying on the open wounds. No, you've been left exposed, with the ache in your hips something you hadn't noticed before, and the weight that's shifted the bed alerts you that someone is tending them for you…and he's singing. Gently. Some lullaby in his native tongue, no doubt, as his hands move quietly and carefully up and down the flesh he ruined.

“Pretty thing.” You can just barely catch a glimpse of him looming from behind, the din of the cabin shadowing the expression on his pale face. Conrad's muttering puts you off at once, but there's nothing you can do about it now. He meant to kill you, but he changed his mind. He took you back to the cabin to rest, and…make up for lost time, if the stickiness of your thighs is any indication. Maybe that mind will be changed again…and you can only hope it does, because whatever he carved into your back, it can't be out of love. No matter how much he's going to try to convince you it is. “You are hurt, love. You want whiskey?”

What hurts more is that you can feel the smirk in his tone. He's having a laugh at you. You tried to run but I caught you. I'll always catch you. You can never hide from me. That's what he's probably thinking.

“No…” Somehow, from some deep well of power within you, your voice forms in a trembling resistance to his strength. Conrad's hands covered in balm and fibres of gauze he's tying round you pause, if just for a moment, and in the relative silence with those drip, drip, drips in the background you find the rest of your voice.

“...I want you dead.”

How laughable. Conrad doesn't laugh, he merely tuts at you–a disapproving parent scolding a young scoundrel. If you weren't so appallingly special to him, he might punish that rejection of his help with a slap or an elbow right into those throbbing wounds that spell out his name. Instead, he dips his head low, and lets his deep, rough whisper creep into your ear and make a home in the deepest pits of fear that reside in your pretty little head.

“Then you just try to kill me, malyshka.”

#conrad dmitriev #conrad dmitriev x reader #conrad x reader #yandereverse #male yandere #yandere ocs #ellie writes #anons #2k

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lees-chaotic-brain · 6 days

Note

You and I by richard hadley and the death ramps, toji, fluff if possible but anything else is great too!!

WC: 2.4k

CW: sorry anon i threw a tad bit of hurt/comfort into the fluff, NOT beta read, editing what's that?, reader referred to as a biker girl, swearing, toji being a bad partner (dw he pulls it together), possibly very ooc idk i've never written for him before, plz don't ask how this got so long i honestly have no idea

taglist: @arlerts-angel @ponderingmoonlight @m0k0k0

listen to this while reading

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There was something off about you. It left him unable to keep his eyes off you, but he didn't have the faintest idea of what it could be.

Was it the emotion in your music? No, that couldn’t be it because there almost always was some musician or another at the diner. And they were normally pretty decent. Maybe it was the motorcycle helmet and keys sitting next to your bag behind you. But he had been around biker girls before, so that didn’t make sense. What was it?

He always goes to this particular diner for lunch when he could, but today as he sat there examining you the place felt different. The smudges and signatures inked on the walls seemed to add to the atmosphere instead of being an eyesore, and the smell of grease and fast food almost comforting. The atmosphere seemed different today, and he felt like it had something to do with you.

Caught up in his musing, he didn’t even notice he was staring at you until you shot him a cheeky smile and a wink as you sang. Shaking his head to clear his mind, he refocused on his neglected lunch, shoveling it down to try and forget what your gaze had done to him. For some reason, he found himself wishing you would look at him again, that feeling lingering throughout the rest of the day and into the next.

I like the way you look at me baby

Toji Fushiguro doesn’t make mistakes. Not because he was born perfect, but because the reality of his life was that one mistake meant death. In a world where cursed energy was deemed necessary to fight curses he made do with brute strength alone. Which worked. Normally.

See, for his way of doing things to work, he needed to have his head in the game. To be one hundred and ten percent focused on the fight at hand. So why the fuck was he thinking about you? And why the actual fuck was the thought of you enough to throw him off his game??

These were all things running through his head as he finished off the curse before slumping to the ground beside it, one large hand pressed against the wound on his ribs as blood seeped out through his fingers.

He couldn’t afford to lose focus. One moment of distraction and this had happened. If it weren’t for his quick reflexes he would be dead right now. So he had no choice. He had to get to the bottom of this. He had to go back and see you again, if only to see what made you so special. All so that he could focus on his job, of course.

At least that’s what he told himself as he returned to the diner, hoping to see you again.

I act as if I'm not going crazy

Girl I'm in a muddle tonight

Packing up your stuff after a long gig at your local diner, you couldn’t wait to get home. Caught up in your fantasies of a hot bath and a pack of instant ramen, you didn’t notice the man approaching you until he stopped in front of you, his shadow blocking the light.

“Sorry, they’re closed, I'm just headed out now.” You look up, vaguely recognizing the hunk of muscle that stood in front of you. Oh, that’s right. He’s the guy who was staring at you during your performance the other day. You wondered what he needed.

“Give me your number.”

“Excuse me?” Of all the things you expected him to say, demanding your number was not one of them. “May I ask why you need it?”

“Just cause.” He folds his beefy arms across his chest, not wavering as you narrow your eyes and scrutinize him, unsure if he’s being serious. Unfortunately, you think he is.

“Listen.” You sigh, pinching the bridge of your nose. “I’ve had a long day. I’m tired. I want to go home. If you want my number, you have to give me something more to work with here, buddy.”

“Buddy?” He quirks an eyebrow, a smirk stretching the small scar at the corner of his mouth. “Do I look like a “buddy” to you?”

You make a show of examining him closely before straightening. “No, you’re right. You look like the guy who ate my buddy. Which is exactly why I don’t think I should give you my number.”

And with that, you sling your bag over your shoulder and leave, climbing on your bike and speeding away. Assuming that would be the last you saw of him, you were surprised when you arrived for your next performance and found him waiting there for you.

“Didn’t get enough of me, huh.” You snark, breezing by him. “At least leave a nice tip this time, ‘kay?”

“No.” His deep voice rumbles from behind you, and you spin to see him staring at you with a stupidly sexy grin on his stupidly hot face.

“Why not?”

“Cause I’m broke.”

You’re unable to hold your snort in, surprised and amused by his unashamed bluntness. Still laughing to yourself, you turn around and pat his bicep.

“Sorry, buddy.” His mouth quirks at your emphasis on the offensive word. “Now you’re definitely not getting my number.”

With that, you walk inside, leaving him outside on the sidewalk with a sneaking suspicion that he just fell in love with you.

Would you tell me where you're gonna take it

If I had a heart you're the one who should break it

Two years later and he has successfully obtained your number, and the two of you are now in a semi-serious relationship. Surprisingly, you were the one to initiate the relationship, despite repeatedly rejecting him when you first met.

At first things had been really nice, as close to perfect as things could be, in your opinion. He was by no means a gentleman, or good with his words, but his dry humor and actions were enough to convey his affection towards you. And that was enough.

Or, at least it was, until he stopped showing up. About a year or so into your relationship he started standing you up occasionally due to work. Honestly, you weren’t entirely sure what his job was, only that it required him to travel and stay in good shape.

The first few times it happened, you brushed it off. After all you were both adults with jobs and lives outside of each other. Of course you would be busy. But then it started happening more and more, and the periods of time he was gone became longer and longer.

The breaking point came around your two year anniversary. You had received a job offer that would require you to move, and as much as you wanted to take it you knew you had to talk it over with him first. There was just one problem. You hadn’t seen him in over a month.

With your two year anniversary approaching, you really wanted to try and reconnect because you hadn’t felt close to him in awhile, and with this job opportunity on the horizon you had to think about whether or not continuing your relationship was worth it.

So you told him that you really wanted to celebrate your two year anniversary with him, and that you had something important to tell him. Not ready to give up on your relationship yet, you put a lot of effort into the night, buying a new dress and cooking a nice dinner for the two of you to share.

But just as you finish setting the table and tidying up the house because he’s due to arrive any second, your phone dings.

Toji <3: Sorry. Won’t be able to make it tonight. Took another job. I’ll be back next week.

The engines running, can't decide if I should ride away

Tired and sore from the last job he had accepted, Toji heads back to your shared apartment, eager to see you again. He didn’t particularly enjoy taking on new jobs, but money didn’t grow on trees so he didn’t really have a choice. He did miss your cooking and affection when he was gone though.

Fumbling with his keys, he finally manages to get the door open and steps inside, only to be greeted by a dark apartment. That was strange. Normally you were home by now. The thought crosses his mind that something could have happened to you, and he slips into the living room, panic stirring in his stomach.

Moving with an amount of stealth unexpected of someone his size, he checks the entire apartment, only to find it empty, with no sign of…anything, really. Realizing that you could just be out with friends, he flicks on the lights and plops down on the couch with a sigh.

Stretching his arms above his head and yawning, a piece of paper sitting innocently on the coffee table with his name on it catches his attention. Absentmindedly cracking his neck, he reaches down and grabs it, gently unfolding it.

His heart sinks as he scans it, your familiar handwriting suddenly illegible. Because there’s no way he’s reading this right. There’s no way you left. There was no reason for you to. Things were great between the two of you. At least, that’s what he had thought, but according to the letter in his hands you didn’t feel the same way.

The next few minutes pass in a blur of tearing open dresser drawers and frantically searching closets for a sign that you hadn’t packed up all of your belongings and left. But all he found was empty space, the smell of your perfume still lingering in the air, despite it being devoid of your presence.

Finally taking a moment to stop and process, he finds himself wondering what he’s so worked up about. So what if you left? It’s not like he needs you or anything. He didn’t even do anything to warrant you leaving! Sure he missed your anniversary, but he planned to make it up to you when he got back! And maybe it wasn’t even the first time he had stood you up like that on an important date, but if you were willing to leave over something as miniscule as that, were you even worth keeping?

At least that’s what he kept telling himself as he went on with his life pretending there wasn't a gaping hole in his life that you used to fill.

Too stubborn to be the first person to reach out when he still felt he hadn’t done anything, a month went by without any contact between the two of you. In the beginning it didn’t bother him that much, because the reality hadn’t fully set in yet. But slowly as the weeks wore on, so too did the absence of all the little things he hadn’t realized he took for granted.

Like the way your quiet humming brought life to the otherwise dull apartment. Or the way your things scattered around on various surfaces had been a constant reassurance of your presence. He missed you scolding him and telling him he needed to take a break, he missed your laughter, he missed your kisses, he-fuck.

He missed you so much. What was he doing?

I had a woman, she went away

And now I'm lonely, fuck it

It’s now been a month since you left in a storm of hurt feelings and anger, but you still hadn’t heard from him. Deep down, you hadn’t expected to actually break up. You figured you would leave and time to cool down. Then when he got back and realized you left it would be a major wake up call for him and he would come running to you with an apology and then he would change.

Instead you got radio silence. You weren’t too concerned the first week because you knew Toji was as stubborn as you were and probably didn’t want to be the first one to reach out and admit he was wrong.

So you waited (semi) patiently, but when a second, then a third week went by without a word, you were faced with the possibility that he wouldn’t ever call. That the two of you truly were over.

Which is why when you were awoken from your nap on the couch by loud knocking at three in the afternoon, you shouted informing them that you would be there in a second as you adjusted your clothes assuming that someone just needed you to sign for a package or something like that.

What you were definitely not expecting to see was your kinda ex-boyfriend standing stiffly in your doorway, staring steadfastly at something over your head.

“Um. Hello?” You lean against the door frame and tuck your hands into your pockets, hoping to conceal their trembling. “You need something?”

“Yes. Actually. I do.” His eyes met yours, and you were shocked by the raw emotions swirling in them. “I need us. Together. You with me. Me with you. The way things are meant to be. I know I can be a bit of an asshole sometimes-”

You snort and raise your eyebrows. “Well, a lot of the time.” He amended, rolling his eyes.

“But, I do really care about you and while I’m not the greatest with my words, or the brightest guy you’ll ever meet, I promise that if you call me out on my bullshit I’ll listen and do my best to change.”

You pretend to think it over, as if the two of you getting back together wasn’t inevitable the second you saw him standing in your doorway. “Let me see…oh wait. One second.”

Pulling out your phone you tap away for a couple of seconds before sliding it into your back pocket. “Sorry ‘bout that. I just accepted this job. Let me get back to you in a week.” With that snarky comment and a smug wink, you shut the door firmly in his face and he hears the sound of the deadbolt clicking into place seconds later.

For a moment he stands there, unsure what to do before he starts laughing. There was the feisty person he had fallen in love with and missed so desperately. And when he heard your quiet chuckles coming from the other side of the door, he knew the two of you would be okay.

The two of you were able to laugh and be together. Just the way you belong.

You and I

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