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#(i know its been a couple weeks since the finale but just in case)
welcometogrouchland · 2 years
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[ID: digital fanart of Luz and Eda from the owl house set after the season 2 finale King's Tide. The image depicts a crying Luz, sat on the floor and holding an acoustic guitar as if to play it. She's looking down with a frustrated expression, and a dark shadow is cast over her. Behind Luz and faced away from the viewer is Eda playing the lute and kneeling down. She's smiling and is drawn with lighter colours and lineart. There's a soft light coming from off screen illuminating Eda and Luz. The background is white, except for a minimalistic depiction of a floor, which is done with a peach gradient. End ID]
It's not time to make a change / Just relax, take it easy / You're still young, that's your fault./ There's so much you have to know
Things she never got to teach you
based on the HC of Luz having learned guitar from her dad, and me realizing how similar it is to Eda's lute. Perfect recipe for musical angst </3
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thexsilentxwordsmith · 6 months
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Simon "Ghost" Riley x FWB!Reader
Fandom: Call of Duty
Character(s): Simon "Ghost" Riley, Reader
Summary: Simon is getting more and more obsessed with his little friend who constantly finds herself in his bed. But when you are off on a quick mission for a few weeks, Simon begins to grow restless and this no strings attached messing around finds itself being turned on its head. What happens when you get a text from him the day you get back, in the middle of the day?
Word Count: 4.8 k
Warnings:
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Part 1:
Late Night Texts
Whatever spell you had cast, whatever potion you had had the Lieutenant drink down he didn’t know, but there had to be some preternatural reason that he could not get enough of you no matter how much he had. You were in his very veins, in the marrow of his bones, in the crevasses of his brain; he was completely head over heels for you and it was only growing by the day.
Your visits to his room under the shroud of darkness were becoming almost nightly at this point, his texts popping up so frequent that no matter when your phone vibrated after dark, you knew it would be him asking if you were on your way over back to his quarters. There was no complaints, however, as you could not get enough of his very particular brand of ecstasy.
You both were in so deep that it was becoming more than just an occasional hook up now and that was only demonstrated more when one night after another round of steamy hot body parts interlocking in that specific way that led to both of you experiencing that little death, he made a request of you that you had not expected.
“What?” you asked as Ghost stared back as you, brow furrowed and mouth contorted as if he were deep in thought while he lay beside you in the bed.
That stoic man knew that what he was going to ask you was going to sound obsessive, but he didn’t care. He wasn’t about to deny himself just to save face; as if his nightly texts weren’t already making him look like a lust-drunk teen. Ever since he hit it that first time, he had not been the same and it only compounded each time he got it until whatever composure he had flew away.
“I… need ya to keep your phone on ya at all times,” he said.
You weren’t one to always keep your phone with you outside of your barracks, not unless you were off duty or it was after hours. It was a nuisance to constantly be drawn to look at it when you were busy and you hated being controlled by it, but the moment he told you to keep it on you there was nothing else for you to do; you had to comply.
“Keep it on vibrate,” he continued, “in case I need to reach ya.”
You smirked. “Strictly military business, correct?”
A deep roll of his eyes met your sarcasm. “Ya fuckin’ know what it’s for,” he said with an incredulous shake of his head.
“Fine…I can do that,” you played with a wink.
A large hand roughly palmed your cheek, eyes drifting over the features of your face as the need to kiss you again grew unbearable. “You did say ya wanted to be my problem, yeah? Well, now ya have to be the solution too.”
“Who said I didn’t want to?”
“Good girl,” he praised before pulling you forward into him once again. “Good girl.”
It was only a couple of days since you had strictly been carrying around that small rectangular object in your pocket at all times when the Lieutenant finally utilized it, making you meet him in the ammunition depot for a quickie during lunch. There was no time to waste as he pulled you inside and immediately got to work, having you coming faster than you thought you’d be able to, mostly from the rush of the forbidden nature of this lewd bit of sneaking around. How you were both able to get in and out in such an easy manner was astounding, but Ghost did have rank on the base so you were sure he had pulled a few strings to make such a filthy thing possible.
It seemed like you both were living on cloud fucking nine, but as life always tends to do nothing can ever be that simple.
As if to shake up your lives, a wrench got thrown into everything. A mission, close to just over a month, was assigned to your squad and there was nothing you could do but leave behind your prefect situation to go out into the field.
“Keep your phone with ya,” he reminded you and you did.
Week one of your departure wasn’t so bad; Ghost was able to distract himself enough that he was able to at least get through the day without thinking about you constantly. He took on more work, volunteered his time, anything to keep him busy until he was too tired to do anything other than head back to his quarters and pass out.
Then week two hit and he started to feel your absence. It began small, his mind would wander to his phone, trying to think up some sort of message he could send you that wouldn’t make him sound too desperate. He’d ask about how things were going, if the weather there was just as shit as back at base, just random things to hear from you. And he realized that his heart would skip a beat each time his phone vibrated, thinking it was you.
By the last week before your return, he could hardly keep still. Fuck he needed you more than he needed food or sleep, he pined for your company again as a starving man pines for food. His hand would never do to satisfy him like you did and it frustrated him that he could not focus because his cock was constantly straining against the barrier of his pants and his body craved to feel your own against it. Every day he checked to see if your squad had returned and each day there was nothing made his heart sink into his feet.
On the other end you were faring just as badly. You did your job just as you were supposed to, keeping your focus mostly on the task at hand, but when you had those moments of freedom it was spent on thinking about the countless nights you had spent in his company already and how you genuinely missed being in his presence as was what you had grown accustomed to.
Things were only made worse when he would text you, drawing attention to the fact that you were separated for the immediate future. Each day droned on and on in endless fashion until you were able to check your phone and see the scant few texts from him that had you holding on until you could be filled with him once again.
And yet it was more than that…though you didn’t know if you could admit it yet. Secret worries crept in that made your mind misfire with fears that he could possibly have moved on in your absence, those anxieties lacing themselves within your bodies need for him, and by the time you and your squad finally were able to return to base you were a wreck. The moment you stepped foot back on home turf you were acutely aware of everything and you wondered with palpating heart just where your lover was.
The team had returned around midday and that meant everyone was given a couple hours for lunch before debriefing would begin. A few of your mates had wrangled you into eating with them and though you hesitated at first, ultimately you gave in. Checking your phone and not seeing anything popping up on the screen sealed the deal; at least they would offer a distraction until you could find a second to see Ghost again.
About half an hour in, your phone buzzed in your pocket as you took another bite of your lunch. Ignoring it as to not be suspicious, you focused back on the conversation happening in front of you until it went off again and again in rapid succession, clearly trying to get your attention and fast.
Discreetly as you could under the table, you pulled the small rectangle out of your pocket and checked the lock screen as your heartbeat was in your ears. Three short texts glared back at you, simple and easy to read in a hurry.
My office.
Now.
Don’t wait.
You hadn’t even read the name of the sender, but you already knew who it was beckoning you in the middle of the day; there was only one who would be desperate enough to risk getting caught like this, but you weren’t about to deny him. It had been long enough you two had been apart that you had to see him again that instant.
Omw
You quickly sent back and in an instant there was a reply.
Got five minutes to get here.
Making up some bullshit excuse to break away from your group, you rushed out of the mess hall and towards the officer’s building that housed their private offices. Your steps were quick, but metered in such a way as not to draw any unwanted attention; no sense in causing yourself to waste time by getting caught up with someone asking where it was you were off to in such a hurry, especially when debriefing was happening so soon.
There was tightness in your chest as time seemed to slow down to an agonizing crawl. Logically you knew that you were almost there, but even with the building looming on the near horizon, it still seemed to take forever to reach it and all you desperately wanted to do was get to him as quick as you could.
The cool air of the officer’s building hit you and you could feel a shiver vibrate through your body; when had you gotten so warm? No time to analyze that as you had more important things to focus on.
You had been inside the building a few times, but never to Ghost’s office in particular and so it took you a minute to locate the room that had his nameplate on the door. Stepping up to the last barrier you both had between you, your heart leap violently in your chest as you raise a balled fist to the wood.
Knock. Knock. Knock.
The sound of knuckles tapping on wood sounded through the small office and Ghost looked up just as the door was cracked open and his breath hitched when his eyes met your face that had just appeared through to the other side.
“You needed to see me sir?” you asked, blood pressure rising and heartbeat thudding wildly inside your chest; you had to keep up appearances to anyone who might be passing by, but you wanted nothing more than to just sprint straight to him and shred his fatigues from his perfectly sculpted body.
Ghost was on his feet in an instant, his pulse now racing liquid hot through his veins at the very sight of you suddenly before him again; he was already on edge the moment he had learned you were back as he waited for a free second in his busy day to call you to him. Now seeing you here in front of him again after such a profound gap of time spent apart sent him into a tailspin.
“Come in and shut the door, private, we need to have a chat,” he ordered roughly, playing his part effortlessly, and you did so without having to be told any more than that.
As soon as he heard the door latch he was on his feet, crossing the length of the room with quick steps that matched his accelerated breathing as he ripped his balaclava up and over his head to discard it somewhere on the floor. “Lock it,” he said abruptly and you immediately followed orders.
You turned back around and Ghost was on you before you could move further, closing his eyes and leaning in with his mouth to immediately connect your lips ferociously together before any of your other parts could touch yet. You had to be quick, there was no guarantee of how much free time you would have before someone could come around, but still he had to take a moment to enjoy that initial reunion of your mouths. Face pressed snugly against the contours of your own, wet, sloppy mouths crushed together in waves of aggressively frantic kisses as if he had completely forgotten the taste of your lips and it had been torturing him to insanity.
His hand moved out from his side and searched for yours until he found it, interlocking those long digits in the empty spaces between your own. Even in the fiery desperation with which he devoured your lips embraces, his touch was still incredibly tender as his hand stayed locked in yours.
“Goddammit, I missed you, luv,” he groaned through pauses in your mouths connection. “Missed you so fuckin’ much I couldn’t stand it. The second I got wind you were back, I couldn’t wait…had to see ya now.”
Your lungs begged for air, but you couldn’t tell him to stop as his free hand locked on to the back of your neck to force your face even harder against his mouth; he was trying to drown in you and you didn’t want him to stop, even with his roughness causing your lips to swell hot and sensitive from the pressure.
“God, sweetheart, how I’ve missed these fuckin’ lips,” he grunted in hushed whispers into your open mouth as his forehead rocked on yours. His cock was straining harshly against the zipper of his pants, tenting the fabric as he ground it into the muscle of your thigh. “Can’t stand bein’ away from ya at all anymore. I was in agony waitin’ for ya to return.”
Your chest tightened while your stomach plunged into your shoes; his need was overwhelming and intense as if it could swallow you whole and fuck were you ready to let it. Rough fingers squeezed down on your hand, using it as a way to ground himself to stop from being ripped apart with the strength of his desire. Your bodies were so close you swore he was trying to fuse you both together.
“Wish I had more time, I wanna suck on those fuckin’ juicy tits of yours so fuckin’ bad,” he groaned as the feeling of your breasts pressed against his chest caught his attention. “Been missin’ those too. Shit, I’ll be honest, there ain’t a part of ya I haven’t been cravin’ like crazy, baby.”
Acting off of pure impulse and adrenaline alone, you reached towards him with your free hand and latched on to his belt, pulling at the hindrance as if you could will it off without having to use any of the fine motor skills that you currently did not have access to as you slipped into that primal state of knowing nothing else other than to satiate the throbbing between your thighs.
Your fingers grazed the tip of his cock through the fabric of his pants and he hissed, his torso contracting from the intensity of that first contact; he had become engorged so quickly that it was painfully sensitive to the touch.
Ghost released your hand to reach over to your own belt, still enough faculty available to him to go about undressing you, though that was quickly waning as your own neediness fueled even more of his desperation for you. “I need ta be inside of ya, luv,” he breathed, resting up against the side of your cheek. “Need it so fuckin’ bad I can almost taste it.”
A light jingling hit your ears as he unlocked your belt from itself and let it fall loosely to hang in the belt loops as he moved on to the button and zipper, undoing them just as easily before everything was shoved down to the floor in one swift motion. His hand moved on top of yours still clinging to the band around his waist, guiding the unsteady fingers on your hand to make you undo the buckle yourself.
The backside of your hand pressed against the soft skin of his pelvis as you slipped inside the waistband of his pants to undo them and shit was he boiling. “Take it out,” he groaned as you got the damned button to release.
A jolt like an electrical current ran through him, shivering up the length of his spine as you plunged those silky soft palms within the confines of his pants and caught his rock hard member in your grasp. Unconsciously his hips bucked into your hand as you situated him so that he was now outside the fabric.
With your hand wrapped around the girth of his cock, you could not stop the urge to stroke the length of it. It pulsed and jolted against the skin of your palm as you worked it up and down and a tiny, almost imperceptible whimper escaped his lips as Ghost unraveled at your touch. All that pent up frustration that had plagued him for the past month and some change burst at the seams and he couldn’t hold back any longer.
“Can’t wait; I have to make you cum, right fuckin’ now,” he said, the agony pervasive in his gravely, low tone.
Grabbing you by the hand Ghost drug you the short distance across the room to his desk, spinning you so that your back was to it. With his hand under your arms he picked you up and set you on the surface, not caring about the papers currently strewn about across the top that now lay under the padding of your bare ass.
Scooting so that you were at the very edge of the tabletop, you immediately spread your legs open wide, only wanting to feel him and not wanting to waste even a second more of time where you both were not connected. He took the invitation to move in, placing his hand on your sex to check how ready you were for him; there was moistness against his palm, but he wanted to be sure you were well lubricated.
There was no more time to wait so he would have to improvise just to be certain you were wet enough; the last thing he would ever want to do was hurt you. Gathering all the saliva he could in his mouth, he spit into his hand and quickly coated the area thoroughly. Your legs twitched from his fingers rubbing up against your sensitive clit as he went. “I fuckin’ swear we’ll do this proper later, just gotta be quick this time,” he reassured. “Tonight I’ll savor ya proper, sweetheart.”
Aligning his cock with your entrance those hardened fingers dug into your bare hips to steady himself as he thrust careful inside you. He watched closely as he slipped it in, his body shuddering as it reacted to him being wrapped fully in you down to the hilt. You whined as he stretched you to capacity, your pussy needing a minute to readjust to his size; it had been a hot minute after all since he had filled you this full.
“Goddammit, luv,” he groaned with a hiss, eyes clamping shut as he struggled to hang on to sanity, “don’t you ever leave me again. I don’t ever wanna fuckin’ miss this.”
Catching his cheek with your hand, Ghost opened his eyes to your touch and you pulled his face closer to yours. “Never if I can help it,” you breathed as you crashed your lips on his again; you needed something to make sure you stayed quiet as he began to forcefully thrust in and out of you, all that longing he had done in your absence culminating in his movements now.
It had only been a few short minutes of him pumping all he had into you, but he was already completely drunk off the feeling of your tight, wet core sucking him with voracity each time he rocked into it. His burning mouth stayed locked onto yours for a little longer, just to be sure you had a handle on the sound before he released it.
“Can’t stop… how much… I need ya…” he panted quietly between desperate thrusts. “Down so bad for ya… sweetheart.”
“Fuck, I was so miserable without you,” you admitted sheepishly. “My fingers are sore.”
The longing in your voice was palpable and Ghost could not get enough. “Missed me like fuckin’ crazy, didn’t you sweetheart?” he asked as his speed increased with new vigor at your words. “Missed what I do to this sweet little body of yours?”
You nodded, but that wasn’t good enough; he was hungry for more of your need of him to be vocalized. “Words, use them,” he demanded.
“Missed you so fucking much,” you whimpered as a twinge of pleasure shot up from your core through your body. “I am an absolute fucking mess without you.”
His lips shot to yours as you were starting to get loud again and though he hated to keep you quiet, it was a necessity in here. Half of him was of the mind to just let you be your usual vocal self, letting the whole fucking office building hear you taking him so well, and as much as his body burned for such a thing he knew in the long run it would be detrimental to your situation. The last thing he wanted was to ruin this by exposing the secret.
“Wish everyone in this fuckin’ office would just leave so I could enjoy your sweet little noises, luv,” he purred into your face as he released your mouth again. “Can’t get enough of your pretty music; my room’s been so quiet without it.”
Panting into his face with mouth open, chest heaving up and down with laborious breaths, Ghost put more into his thrusts so that even the desk itself began to rock with you from the force. The strength of his pumps made you feral, relinquishing any hold you had on civility as you would do anything to get more of the way his body fit into your cunt; it felt nice to be filled out by him again… you had grown far too accustomed with being constantly overflowing with his cock on the daily.
So wet, the sound of slapping skin against skin filled the silent space within the room, Ghost’s second favorite sound that you produced. It was like a round of applause for all his efforts, that he was putting in the right amount of work, and he pulled back to watch himself pump in and out of you. He hoped that someone would take him out permanently if he ever got tired of that sight, though he wasn’t worried about it as nothing would ever look better to him.
Taking the first two fingers of one of his hands he brought it to your clit, drawing circles with the pad of the digits over that overwhelmingly sensitive bundle of nerves. Your hips bucked wildly at the extra bit of stimulation, slamming against his hand as your eyes rolled back with all that ecstasy flowing through your veins.
“Don’t stop, baby,” you begged, trying desperately to keep your volume at a reasonable level. “Gonna cum soon.”
Christ, those three words he had longed to hear for weeks now only fueled those strong thrusts and quick flicks of your clit. “That’s it, darlin’, fuckin’ come for me,” Ghost growled so desperately it made your brain numb. “I need to know your body still belongs to me.”
“Only you,” you returned without hesitation. “You’ve ruined me for anyone else baby. I can’t even get wet to anything but you.”
That beastly, towering hulk of a man shuddered at your proclamation, nearly spilling his seed inside you at such a beautiful phrase coming from your lips, but he would not allow anything to stop him from bringing about your release and so he focused everything he had left solely on you.
Keeping the pace of both his fingers and his cock at the same, precise speed Ghost watched as after a few more minutes your head finally flicked back and your thighs clamped down around his hips, a cry exploding out of you before you quickly locked your lips together to stifle the tail end of your ecstasy-filled exclamation.
Your cry is what did him in and he jerked violently as your pussy fluttered around him and he had to harshly pull out of you so that he could milk himself dry over top of your bare stomach. The sticky, hot fluid coated your skin with an amount more than you were expecting; clearly it had been a while.
Ghost looked back up at you, a contented, amused smile plastered to his lips. “Goddamn, luv,” was all he could say as he admired the beautiful flush in your cheeks and glazed look in your eyes, all a product from him.
It took him a second to find something to help clean you both up; a spare t shirt he had balled up in the bottom drawer of his desk would have to do. He took care of himself first before he moved to you, handing you the shirt while he went to gather your clothes. Waiting till you were finished cleaning off, he helped you to redress as your legs shook unsteadily.
The care he was taking with you now, it wrought to the surface just how silly you had been while you were away, thinking that he could have ever dropped you for someone else. You thought you had been slick, concealing your emotions from his discerning eye until you heard him speak.
“What’s that?” he questioned, causing you to look back up into his face.
“What’s what?” you posed curiously.
“That… look. On your face.”
You didn’t really want to say, you knew it was only an intrusive thought, but something about the way he stood gazing at you as if actively waiting for you to answer made you speak up. “It’s silly, but…” you paused; why couldn’t you just be honest with him? That man was just inside of you and yet this felt so much more intimate than that.
“Tell me,” he said, genuinely interested in the answer.
You swallowed hard. “Well, I was… worried you might have forgotten about me…moved on to someone else or something while I was gone. Wouldn’t have blamed you. I mean, needs are needs right?”
Ghost had already moved back in as you nervously laughed, both of those large hands cupping your face between them. Amber eyes stared back at you for a few seconds as if trying to read the meaning behind your words before he tilted his head to one side and leaned in to kiss you in such a way as he never done before: it was softer, but with just as much passion that you felt you might choke on it.
“I will neva forget about ya, luv,” he stated firmly as he broke the kiss, unable to hold back the string of truth that began spilling forth. “There’s no one ‘round here that could replace ya, absolutely fuckin’ no one. I don’t want some flaky tart that’s gonna get sick of my shit after a while or some dumb bimbo that talks a big game, but cannot keep up with me. I want you. Only you, understand?”
You nodded. “I only want you too, Simon.”
In all this time, you had never really used his name; perhaps it was too familiar for the type of relationship you both had together or maybe it was simple enough to stick to more formal monikers so that when not in a more intimate setting things wouldn’t get confusing. Whatever the reason was it didn’t matter anymore. Fuck did his name sound good being said in your voice; there was no going back from the shift that was happening here.
And maybe eventually you’d both be able to say it… out loud. For now, though, this was enough.
“So…” he said in hushed tones as he cleared his throat, knowing that you needed to head back soon and hating every bit of it, “you’re comin’ by later, yeah?”
You let out a small sigh and gave him a sweet, muted smile. “I believe you owe me more than just a quickie, so I guess so.”
Simon shook his head. “Fuckin’ hell,” he chuckled. “I guess off you fuckin’ go then before someone gets suspicious.”
And with another quick kiss you left him all alone in his quiet office to count down the literal seconds until he could be with you again. Hopefully, the rest of that day would go by fast, but the way his heart was beating, he didn’t hold out for a painless outcome.
Part 3:
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l1tw1ck · 27 days
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dean winchester consumes my mind LAWDDD I beg for anything with that man, surviving off of scraps looking for more top male reader x dean 🤕
- 🛸
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No Longer a Mentor
Sub!Bottom Dean Winchester x Top!Male Reader
☆ Word Count: 1,512 ☆
After spending his young adult years with you, his mentor, more than his father, Dean found himself falling for you. He eventually made a move and forever changed the dynamic of your relationship
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🕯️: well luckily for u, i just finished this draft :3
CW: Age Gap, First Time Bottoming, Blowjob, Fingering, Frottage (Sort Of), Creampie
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Dean’s known you for a couple years, you're a friend of his dad’s and a fellow hunter. You became his mentor in place of his father, who often hunted on his own and left Dean in your care. You liked to stay in your state since the area was basically a supernatural magnet while his father preferred to travel the country so he chose you to finally allow Dean to stay in one place for more than a week. If you were anybody else, Dean would've been annoyed that his dad didn't take him along despite his age and experience. Instead of going to college, Dean spent those years learning to hunt with his father and mostly you. Thanks to all the time you spend with each other, his allegiance to you is almost stronger than his allegiance to his father. He hangs on your every word and treats you like a god. It's thanks to you that he finally accepted his bisexuality. But he doesn't want to tell you that.
He first started feeling differently towards you when you started to become more physical with him. You often hold onto his shoulder with your strong hand or pull him out of the way by his waist and it drives him crazy. He so desperately wants to feel your hands on other parts of his body and vice versa. Your voice makes him weak in the knees and you sound especially attractive when you've found your prey. You're much older than him but he can't get rid of his feelings for you. He tries his best to be content with just having a crush.
After you two had dinner, you decided to drink with him. The two of you laughed and talked over a few cans of beer and deepened your relationship further.
“You ever been in a relationship, [Name]?” Dean asks, slightly tipsy.
“A few. I mostly slept around in my college years and experimented a bit with other hunters but in the end I decided to marry my job instead.”
“Why?”
“I wanted to marry someone I could tell everything to so I tried dating within my circle but none of the hunters seemed to click with me in the ways that really matter.”
“That makes sense…then you probably haven't…” He trails off.
“I probably haven't what?”
“Had sex…lately……”
You laugh. “No, I haven't. Honestly, I think getting laid would really help me. It's been a rough couple weeks.”
“I…” Dean gulps. “I could help with that….if you don't mind…….being with a guy..”
You look at him in surprise. “You're drunk.”
“I’ve only had two cans and a half…You know I don't get drunk that fast.”
You look at him differently, no longer with the eyes of a mentor. “You’ll bottom?”
Dean nods.
You smile in amusement. “I might be a little rough, can you handle that?”
He nods again, more enthusiastically this time.
“Come here.” You motion for him to come over to your side of the table. He stands in front of you. “Kneel.” You order. Dean immediately kneels, his cock steadily growing in size. You unbuckle your belt and pull down your underwear. Dean stares at your cock in awe, body heating up as he watches you jerk it to its true size.
“Fuck. You’re big.” He breathes out.
“Too big?”
“I can handle it.” He says, licking his lips.
“Attaboy.” You run your hands through his hair. Dean blushes. “Ever done this before?”
“Never..” His eyes are trained on your length.
“Is this your first time with a man?”
“Yeah…”
Your gaze changes. Dean shivers in arousal. “How long have you wanted this?”
“A long time…I’ve been…fingering myself, in case we….” He looks away.
You grin, turned on by the thought of that. “You'll have to show me that some day.”
Dean’s face gets redder.
“Now, let me see how you suck cock.”
He's so hard right now. He opens his mouth and slowly swallows your length. He makes a dragged out moan in pleasure as he feels your thickness enter him. Pre cum leaks out of his cock as he imagines how it’ll feel in his ass. He bobs his head up and down enthusiastically, mimicking his past girlfriends by simultaneously swirling his tongue around your shaft.
“Fuck–” You moan. “That's it– good boy.”
Words can't express how happy Dean gets when you praise him.
“You're better at this than I expected, baby.” You smile at his cuteness. He can't hide how pleased he is. “You like sucking dick, don't you? I never thought you’d be a cock slut, Dean.”
He moans. He’ll happily be your cock slut. He pulls away and licks your length in a very sexy way, gaining more confidence thanks to his elevated horniess. “I love your cock, sir.”
“Of course, you’re my cock slut.” You press your hand against his cheek. “Stand up and take your clothes off, I wanna use your other hole.”
Dean’s cock throbs even more. He stands up and quickly removes his clothes, shivering under your hungry and lustful gaze. You pat your lap and he quickly sits on top of you, your shafts pressed against each other.
You grope his ass. “I don’t have any lube..” You trail off, mesmerized by his soft butt.
“I already fingered myself earlier.” He smiles.
“Good boy.” You praise him. “Then spit’ll be enough. Say ‘ah’.” You bring two fingers into Dean’s mouth. He sucks on your fingers in the sluttiest way he can before you take them out and gently push one of your saliva covered fingers inside his soft hole. You give him a moment before adding the second, then you start to finger him.
Dean lets out the prettiest moan you’ve ever heard. “[Name]~” He arches his back and subconsciously thrusts his hips, his cock rubbing against yours. “Your- yours feel so- fuck~” He groans. “So much better!”
You moan as well thanks to the sudden friction. You bring him into a sloppy kiss, the temperature between the two of you steadily rising. Dean pulls away first, more desperate for air, and presses his forehead against your shoulder. “Don't stop– mm- gonna come~” He whimpers. Your fingers find his prostate, an immediate gasp of pleasure leaving Dean’s lips. He throws his head back. “There! Yes!” He moans, grinding against your cock even faster. The combination of his moans, his expression, and his cock against yours all contribute to bringing you to closer your orgasm.
Dean comes first, cum splattering over the two of you. Yours comes second thanks to the amazing look on Dean’s face.
“You're so fucking sexy, Dean, you know that?” You take your fingers out and knead his ass.
“I know.” He gives you a kiss. “I want you inside me.”
You lift Dean up and slowly lower him down on your cock. You both let out noises of pleasure as you penetrate him. He bites down on his lip, thoroughly enjoying the feeling of his ass stretching to accommodate your girth. Once you bottom out, you give him time to get used to it. “Your cunt feels fucking amazing.” You groan. It's hard to hold yourself back but thankfully for you, Dean has no intention of waiting any longer. He places his hands on your shoulders and starts riding you. He quickly loses his momentum as the pleasure begins to overwhelm him. You help him out by grabbing his waist and doing the work for him, allowing Dean to fully enjoy himself.
He knew anal sex would feel good, especially because it's anal sex with you, but he never really had an idea of how good it’d feel until now. Now he's completely blissed out and only able to moan like a slut. It's especially thanks to your quick and rough speed that he's unable to think properly. You couldn't get yourself to go slower even if you tried. His ass just feels way too good.
“Your ass is perfect, Dean–” You groan. “So fucking good-” You hold him and stand up then gently place him on the table after clearing it of the empty cans. You rut into him like a monster, so horny that you feel like you could fuck him all night. You can never get enough of him.
Dean arches his back and shakes as ropes of cum spurt out of his dick. You know you should stop, or at least slow down, but you can't. “‘M sorry baby, fuck–” You moan, hanging your head low as you find your orgasm approaching. “‘M gonna come inside, okay? Gonna fill up your tight fucking cunt with my seed–”
Dean’s conscious enough to understand you. “Ye- yes!” He grins. He's been wanting to know what it feels like to get creampied. “Co- come inside!”
Encouraged by his words, you spill your cum into his warm and welcoming hole. Your thrusts come to a stop and the two of you start to catch your breaths.
“That…was so fucking good.” Dean says, leaning back.
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mapiforpresident · 1 month
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Baby Fever
Mapi x reader
warnings: none
I know this is not very good, but feel free to send in some requests!!
The Camp Nou stadium buzzed with the intense energy of the crowd as FC Barcelona's women's team emerged victorious from yet another thrilling match.
You and Mapi had been dating for over half a year now and you couldn't be more in love. You just fit together and you can't imagine a future without her. You finally just moved in together a couple weeks ago after Mapi finally worked up the courage to ask you, with some pushing from Ale.
As the final whistle blew ending the match you just played and the team made their way off the pitch, Mapi couldn't help but notice the way your eyes lit up when you spotted a baby being held by its parents in the stands. A tender smile graced your lips as you waved at the little one and went to go take a picture with the adorable baby in a little Barcelona jersey.
It was a sight that Mapi found both endearing and unexpected. She had never really thought about having children herself, focused as she was on her career and the demanding schedule of a professional athlete. But seeing your interaction with the baby stirred something within her—a longing she hadn't realized she harbored.
Later, in the locker room, as Mapi took off her boots, Alexia and Patri noticed the wistful expression on her face.
"What's on your mind, Mapi?" Ale asked with a knowing grin, nudging Mapi playfully.
"Yeah, you've been staring off into space since the game ended," Patri chimed in, a mischievous glint in her eyes.
Mapi shook her head, trying to shake off the sudden surge of emotions. "It's nothing, just... something I saw in the stands," she replied vaguely, not wanting to delve into the complexities of her newfound feelings.
But her teammates weren't about to let it go that easily. They exchanged knowing looks before Alexia leaned in closer, lowering her voice conspiratorially. "Did someone catch a case of baby fever, Mapi?" she teased, her tone laced with amusement.
Mapi's cheeks flushed crimson, betraying her embarrassment. "Stop it, you two," she muttered, though there was no real heat behind her words. She knew they meant well even if they constantly teased her and told her how whipped she was for you..
As the team filed out of the locker room and headed towards the parking lot, Mapi found herself walking alongside you, your fingers laced together perfectly. The silence between them was comfortable, but Mapi couldn't shake the question that had been lingering in her mind since she saw you with the baby.
Finally, unable to contain her curiosity any longer, Mapi cleared her throat, stealing a glance at you. "Hey, y/n... Can I ask you something?"
You turned to her, her expression soft and attentive. "Of course, Mapi. What's on your mind?"
Mapi took a deep breath, gathering her thoughts before plunging ahead. "Do you... Do you ever think about having kids? In the future, I mean."
The question hung in the air between them, laden with implications and possibilities. Mapi held her breath, waiting anxiously for your response, her heart pounding in her chest.
Your eyes widened in surprise before a gentle smile spread across your face, illuminating your features with warmth and affection. "Yeah, Maps," you said softly, reaching out to intertwine your fingers once again. "I think about it all the time, and I can't wait to have a mini Mapi running around one day."
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harryslittlefreakk · 3 months
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little angel
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the pact extra but can be read on its own 🫶🏼
summary: a little drabble of needy y/n and dad!rry goodness
warnings: pregnancy talk, mostly fluff, slight smut
a/n: i’m dead at this couple 🥹 that’s all i can say
you can join my taglist here and find the rest of my writing here! enjoy xxx
“I want a baby,” Harry sighed, pulling you close to his chest. “Harry-” you started, wriggling in his grip as you tried to face him. “No I know, s’not much more we can do. Just wanted to say it in case the universe is listening.”
“Yeah, but-”
“The universe doesn’t listen, I know what you’re gonna say.”
You finally broke free of his grasp, turning around to look at him. “Shut up for one minute and listen. I’m late.”
“Where you going?” he asked, brows furrowed as he tried to remember any plans you’d told him about. “Christ,” you rolled your eyes, laughing at his response. “Late for my period,” you explained, watching the gears turn in his head.
“Really?” he gasped, fingers trailing up your back. “Yeah, like a week. I don’t know though, I don’t feel like this is our time.”
“You wanna find out?” he asked, padding towards the bathroom. You’d kept a stash of tests since the beginning of your relationship, preferring to be able to test for your peace of mind rather than have to rush out to the store in a frenzy if you were ever late. You’d never actually had to use one, getting your period right on time every month until now. Though you knew Harry was desperate to be a dad, you’d never really been properly trying. You hadn’t tracked your ovulation or waited for the little blue cross every month. You’d seen the toll that it had taken on your friends relationships and didn’t want your sex life with Harry to turn into a means to an end.
You cuddled into him as you set the little stick down, the end of the three minute wait feeling a lifetime away. “You okay?” he murmured against your hair, rubbing a hand over your lower back. “I’m a bit scared, H,” you whispered. You were scared. Your relationship had been a whirlwind, only two years now since you reconnected, and you weren’t sure you were ready to sacrifice your time alone with Harry just yet. But if you were to ever have a baby, now was the right time. Your workload was looking light for the next year or so, and Harry wasn’t planning a tour any time soon. And most of all, you were worried you’d let him down. He’d been waiting so long for a baby, taking everything at your pace and waiting for you to want it as much as he did. Which you did, but you also knew that it was your life that would have to totally change, your body that would suffer through the strain of growing a new life. Harry would give parenting his all, and you’d always known he’d be an incredible dad, it just wasn’t the same as what being a mum would entail.
“S’a big thing, darling.”
“Don’t want to disappoint you if I’m not, Harry,” you told him, your fear turning to tears in your eyes. “Never, baby. You’ll never disappoint me.” He pressed a kiss to the top of your head as you sighed against him, anxiously checking your phone to see how long had passed. It had almost been three minutes, so you slipped your phone back in your pocket and looked up at him, urging him wordlessly to look at the test. “If it doesn’t show it by now then…” your voice trailed off, not wanting to finish the sentence.
“Y’ready?” he asked, stepping towards the windowsill as you sat down on the edge of the bath. You nodded, heart caught in your throat. He turned it over, and even from where you were sitting you could see it. The brightest blue cross, an unmistakable answer. Harry was frozen in place, hands shaking as he stared down at the test. You’d thought about this moment so many times, imagining how you’d feel and react. But seeing the positive result in front of you, knowing there were the tiny beginnings of a life inside of you, everything you’d imagined went out the window. All you could feel was the rush of nervous excitement, your previous fears disappeared in place of those tiny blue lines.
Harry turned to you with tears in his eyes, a great big grin spread across his face. “A baby,” he whispered, pulling you up into his arms. “A baby,” you replied, pressing a gentle kiss to his lips.
“Please, Harry,” you begged, shuffling behind him. You’d been practically rabid for a few months now, the tables turning on which one of you was totally insatiable. Your pregnancy hadn’t come with many symptoms, except the exhaustion and the constant ache in your core. You needed more of your husband, needed him in a way that would only be cured if he could climb inside of your skin. “You really want me to cancel this interview for you?”
“You would if you loved me,” you whined. “I can’t, kitten. Just give me half an hour and I’ll show you how much I love you.”
“I don’t have half an hour, H,” you pleaded, tugging at the hem of his sweatshirt.
“Come on then, I can give you five minutes.”
Harry lead you over to the sofa in the corner of his office, pulling your t-shirt up as you laid down, a satisfied smile tugging at the corner of your lips. He ran a hand over the gentle curve of your growing belly, pressing delicate kisses to your skin before slipping a hand inside your panties, pleased to find your folds already soaked for him. “Needed me so bad, huh?” he smirked, slipping a finger straight into you. You whimpered at his touch, pleasure so built up inside of you that you could have came right there. With only five minutes to get you where you needed, Harry went right into tickling at your sweet spot. He’d been so good at accommodating your every need, dropping whatever he was doing to give you whatever you wanted, whether that be his touch or simply his closeness.
His thumb brushed against your clit, sending your back arching off the soft velvet as you gasped for breath. You could feel the knot in your core tightening, thighs clamping together around his hand. “Come, sweet girl,” he urged, rubbing circles against your button as his fingers fucked in and out of you. You cried out as a buzzing spread through your body, your orgasm ripping through you.
His hand slowed down as he rode you through your high, satisfied in giving you exactly what you craved. Harry pulled the knitted throw over you as your eyes fluttered, pressing a kiss to your forehead. He pulled his desk chair over to stay next to you, tangling one hand in yours while he set up his laptop on his knees.
“What do you want to be called, huh?” you wondered aloud, fingers dancing across your bump.
“Stevie,” Harry replied, looking up from his spot on the floor. He was surrounded by pieces of wood and tools, desperate to get the crib built by the end of the day. “Not Stevie,” you laughed. “Stevie Styles is a ridiculous name.”
“It’s a great name.”
“It’s a pornstar name, do you want your daughter to have a pornstar name?”
“It’s a strong name.”
“What if she has a lisp? Thtevie Thtyleth.”
“Then you come up with something better.”
“What about something Italian?” you asked, pulling up a list of names on your phone. It was something you’d thought about a lot since your summer in Italy, loving the delicate nature of the names. “Alessia, Lucia, Emilia,” you listed off, imagining each name attached to your little girl. “I like Alessia,” Harry mused, standing up to pad over to where you were perched on the bed. “Show your mama what you like, little angel,” he spoke softly to your bump, one hand splayed across its curve. She kicked lightly against his palm, her tiny feet always dancing to the hum of her dad’s voice. “I think she likes Alessia,” you laughed, the sensation of her moving not one you think you’d ever get used to. “It needs something else though, Alessia Styles isn’t quite there.”
“Noelle,” Harry murmured against your neck. “She will be a little Christmas baby after all,” he added, glancing over at the foliage garland on your mantle. “Alessia Noelle,” you repeated, placing a hand over his. “I like that, H,” you smiled. He hummed against your skin, peppering delicate kisses on every part of skin his mouth could reach.
“I can’t do it, H,” you whined, pacing the length of the room. “You can, baby. It’s so close now,” he told you, fluffing up the pillows on your bed. He held his hands out to you, helping you to lay back down. “You can’t pace her out of you, no matter how hard you try. I’m gonna call the doctor back in, okay? Then we can meet our little girl.” Harry smoothed his hand over your hair, waiting for your nod before he pulled away.
You were physically prepared to meet your little angel, but the mental preparedness was something else altogether. You’d been patiently waiting for your new arrival for nine long months, but now that you were faced with the final hurdle you suddenly felt totally incapable of having a new life in your hands. Someone to shape and raise, to grow with as much love and care as you had over the last months.
You’d been fully dilated for a while now, ready to push before you’d had a little freak out. Now you were back in the bed, back flush against the cold sheet. Harry had your hands in his, eyes locked on yours to keep you calm. “Jus’ have to focus on me, okay kitten?” You nodded, bracing for the next contraction.
Pushing was one of the hardest things you think you’d ever do. You’d read the books, seen the movies, spoken to your mum and Anne so many times and yet you still weren’t prepared for how hard it would be on your body. It was a full body exercise, every single muscle tensed as you got closer to meeting your baby girl. Until finally you heard that strangled cry, the tiny gasp falling from Harry’s lips, the blur of movement before she was placed on your chest. Your body finally relaxed, content as you wrapped her in your arms. It felt like hours had passed since you laid back in the bed, though looking at the clock you knew it had been just shy of fifty minutes.
Harry took her in his arms as you sunk into the pillows, exhaustion taking over you. Fatherhood looked good on him. A muslin draped over his shoulder, sweatshirt damp with your sweat and tears. He looked totally frazzled, in the best way. Cheeks flushed from his heart exploding within him, love-drunk as he stared down at your little angel, her tiny fingers clenched around his ring.
“I want another one,” Harry cooed, totally smitten with the tiny girl laying in his arms.
taglist: @sleutherclaw @slutforcoffein @harrysolaf @opheliaofficial07 @dragonslayersupremacy @nikkisimps @michellekstyles @im-an-overthinker @fangirl7060 @indierockgirrl @palmettogal508 @thereunion1d @sturnioloenthousiast @hannah9921 @harryshotpocket @daphnesutton @poojasdesk @averytermaat @tenaciousperfectionunknown @kkr102 @thegrapejuiceblues1982 @mema10 @annageeeezzzz
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star-anise · 2 years
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This is what the fight is like
Sooo, apparently the extremely tenuous and recent nature of the LGBTQ+ community's legal right to exist was not actually super widely known to a lot of people on Tumblr?
Which clarifies some stuff in retrospect. I have so often wanted to grab people by their lapels and shout, "Stop picking on someone for not meeting your entry requirements! We need everyone we can get, you asshole! DON'T YOU KNOW HOW MUCH THEY HATE US OUT THERE?"
Aaaapparently... no, they did not know. Or they knew and were a conservative psyop preparing the ground for our loss of legal rights. Fun times!
So: Look, it is bad. Shit is scary. They really do hate us out there. You're not wrong.
But: This is what we've always fought. This boat we're in with its antique fittings and strange markings on the floor is a battleship. Work has always been going on in the basements, and when shit gets tough, we clear away clutter and roll out the cannons.
I found this chart a couple weeks ago and hung onto it because it felt like the map to my first 25 years on this earth:
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[Image description: A graph titled "Same Sex Marriage: Public Polls since 1988." It is from FiveThirtyEight's NYT column. It records the percentage of US Americans polled who would say yes or no to legalizing same-sex marriage, from 1988 to 2011.
The two lines begin with roughly 10% saying yes in 1988, and 70% saying no; the two lines gradually draw closer over the years, until by 2011, the percent saying finally dips under 50%, and the group saying yes makes a tentative reach for the majority. End of image description.]
After some great social change has happened, when everyone has admitted that gay marriage is very cute and Pride is a colourful parade, hooray, people like to pretend that it was just natural and inevitable and happened on its own. People just became less prejudiced! Courts just decided on a case! Governments just passed a law!
In reality, it was a vicious fucking fight, every fucking time. Every fucking where. There are a lot of people who deeply, sincerely believe that a hundred years ago, society had good rules about sex and gender and intercourse and marriage, and that changing those rules has made the world worse. They don't always agree on the specifics, but they can work together far enough to fight anyone with new ideas.
This is why we are a community. Even when we don't have the same experiences of attraction or identity, even when we don't do the same things, even when we have wildly different ideas of a good time. Because when these groups take aim, we're all under fire, and none of us is responsible for why they hate us.
In some ways I think it's a miracle that there seems to be a generation that did not grow up, as I grew up, constantly glued to news reports about What Percentage of Society Hates Us this month. I can't imagine who I'd be if my brain and heart and soul hadn't been tied up, that whole time, in the political question of whether I'd get to dream of a decent future.
I think that it will give us strength to have people who can imagine a world where no one hates us. Who believe in it so strongly they can taste it. That's my prediction: If you didn't know this was coming, you'll be a boon to us, because we have always needed joy so fiercely, in this fight, to keep us going on. We have needed drag queens and punk bands and "her wife" and safe space stickers. Parade floats and wedding days and little dogs with rainbow collars, badges and banners and meetups, because more than anything else we need to fight our own despair, and our fear that the world will never get any better than this.
It will. We know it will. We can taste it.
Look up to the history, organizations, and people who've got us this far for information on what forms of activism will actually advance our political goals. Look to the side to make sure the comrades within reach are keeping their heads above water, and that you're keeping enough joy going to stay alive. Look back to see who's more vulnerable than you are that you might have forgotten or been tempted to leave behind. Look after each other. Look after yourself.
We can do this.
To your battle stations.
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There's a 100% Chance I'm Gonna Marry You | Spencer Reid
Add yourself to my taglist! | Here’s my masterlist!
Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader
Summary: The team doesn’t even know of her existence but when Spencer can’t get a hold of her, he gets worried. Now he has no other choice than to tell his coworker about her.
Warnings: worry, guns, kicking down doors, mention of Maeve & Haley's death, fluff!
Author's note: I kinda love this like a lot???
Words: 3.4K
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Spencer was happy. Considering the things he had gone through in the past ten years, no one had expected him to ever come back to his incredibly happy and constantly smiley self. No one had ever seen him so giggly and teasing his colleagues every single day. 
If you asked his coworkers, all of them would say something different. JJ, Alex and Penelope all swore he was simply in love. Hotch and Rossi knew what was happening – years of profiling in their back pocket that would catch onto the tiniest signs and being his boss had its perks. Morgan believed he was just getting laid, finally. 
If you asked Spencer, he’d simply shrug and say, “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” 
The truth was that he was in love, just like his female coworkers had guessed. 
He had met her a few years earlier at a bookstore. The two of them had reached for the exact same book at the exact same time, causing their hands to bump. Apologies floated through the air, followed by their awkward giggles when their eyes locked. Spencer offered to buy her the book that day and she insisted they read it together over a cup of coffee. Of course he didn’t decline, and neither did he alert her that he read as fast as lightning. For her, he’d read at her pace. 
Ever since that day, the two of them had been hanging out non-stop at bookstores, coffee shops, and eventually at each other’s apartment. It took them a good six months before finally sharing a searing kiss that sealed their relationship. 
That kiss was about a little over a year ago and now, the two of them were living together. Albeit, she kept her old address, with the help of Hotch who had called in favor, just to throw anyone that snooped into their personal affairs off. 
Without any of his colleagues knowing. 
At first, he didn’t want their relentless teasing, but then he was reminded of how the BAU’s family and partners were put in constant danger over being even slightly connected to them. Spencer almost wanted to break up with her over it, just to keep her safe. And they did, for a good week, until Spencer realized he couldn’t live without her. 
She was fine with being his little secret. Though sometimes, she wanted to get to know his colleagues after all the stories she heard from him. The gruesome details about those stories, however, she’d rather forget immediately. 
That was why the two of them kept in touch as much as they could during his cases. Quick phone calls, just to check in with one another, constant text messages, … There was never a moment where the two of them didn’t hear from one another. 
When one day she didn’t answer him, he grew immediately worried. 
That day had started early for Spencer. He'd been woken up at five am by a call from JJ, telling him to come into work as soon as he could, but not to bring a go-bag. Her eyes had fluttered open ever so slightly, but he shushed her and kissed her forehead. 
“Go back to sleep,” he whispered and tried to pull away, but her arms snaked around his neck, pulling him back. 
The girl whined and though her eyes were closed, her lips were pursed. “Gimme kiss first.” 
Chuckling, Spencer leaned down and kissed her on the lips sweetly. “I love you.”
“Mmh, love you too. Come back to me in one piece, Doctor Reid.” 
She tugged at the duvet to cozy up and doze off again. For a couple seconds, he watched her with a tender smile plastered on his face. He hated leaving the girl he loved behind. He’d much rather cuddle up to her underneath the covers. 
“I promise,” he whispered and kissed her head again before finally turning on his heel and walking out the apartment. It was always with a heavy heart that he left the apartment, but his mind was quickly occupied by the case at hand. 
It wasn’t until 10am when he received a text from her. The initials “L.G.” flashing onto his screen. It was her contact name that she had added. It stood for Lover Girl, she had told him, while putting his contact name as P.B.; Pretty Boy. 
L.G.: I actually slept until now. Got any statistics on that, Doctor? 
A smile took over his entire face. She often asked him for any statistics about whatever she was thinking about. It was her favorite thing to do, listening to him ramble off facts and statistics, which was why she’d asked for it. Even if it was merely through text.
P.B.: 55% of people oversleep at least once a week and 75% of those have missed work. A little over 30% said they oversleep once a week and 24% do it multiple times a week.
He waited a minute, she usually answered within a couple minutes and he and Morgan were waiting for their colleagues to compile their theories anyway. When her message popped onto his screen, he couldn’t help but smile even wider. 
L.G.: You never disappoint. – Thank GOD for bank holidays. ;-) 
Spencer chuckled before starting to type up a response. 
P.B.: What are you up to today? 
Before her reply came in, their colleagues filed into the briefing room where he and Morgan resided. He quickly chucked his phone in his pocket and focused on what his coworkers were saying. It took a couple of minutes as they put their heads together and piece together some of the evidence they had found. 
“Morgan, Reid, I’m gonna need you to go to the apartment building and ask around if anyone has seen Peter in the hallways that night. Alex and Rossi, you’re on the new crime scene. JJ and I will head to the M.E.”
Everyone nodded at their assignments before they got up and filed out of the briefing room. As Spencer followed Morgan out to the SUV, he grabbed his phone to check her message she had sent. 
L.G.: Just going to run some errands. Do you need anything from the grocery store? 
P.B.: Can you get me some of those rice crispy treats, please, angel? 
He put his phone back in his pocket before turning to his coworker next to him, who was sneaking glances at him whilst driving. “I do still wonder who you’re always texting with that dopey smile on your face.” 
Spencer coughed. “My-my mom.” 
“Are you ever gonna tell me the truth?” Derek asked, his thick brows raised. There was no answer at the top of that genius brain of his, so he simply grimaced and nodded his head. 
The two of them focused back on the case and went door to door at the apartment building, asking everyone if they had seen who they were looking for. None of them were much help and when they were done interviewing the inhabitants, one hour had passed. On the way back to the car, Spencer checked his phone again, but no messages from his Lover Girl this time. 
He frowned and sent her another text. 
P.B.: Back from the store yet, L.G.? Did you remember my rice crispy treats? 
It wasn’t usual for her to take this long to reply, especially when she had a day off. Her phone’s sound was always on and she had it closeby at every moment. Worry settled on his chest. He couldn’t act on the anxieties swirling around in his mind as he couldn’t just rush home mid-case. 
When there was no answer another hour later, Spencer knew something was up. He tried to call her when he and Morgan were waiting on the rest of the team to regroup, but it went straight to voicemail. 
“Hiya! You just missed me, but leave a message and I’ll call you back when I can.” 
The sound of her voice calmed him down a little bit, but the fact that it was her voicemail only made his worry grow. Two steps forward and one step back, it felt like. 
“You okay, Reid?” Morgan asked when he noticed his coworker in distress. 
Spencer internally groaned at the fact he couldn’t tell Morgan what was stressing him out because he had decided to keep his girlfriend a secret. Especially at a moment like this when there could be something wrong with her. For all he knew, she could be hurt. The exact reason for keeping her a secret in the first place.
“Uhm, yeah,” he lied. “Yeah, I’m okay.” 
It was crystal clear that Morgan didn’t believe his coworker but with the height of the case nearing, he decided not to press any further. It was only hours later, when they closed the case, and Spencer was clearly spiraling that he decided to ask further. 
“Reid, seriously, what’s going on?” he asked when Spencer hung up his phone for a fifth time, not getting the answer he wanted. 
Spencer sighed and chucked his phone in his pocket, his hands trembling as he did so. “I-I need to go home. Something’s wrong.” 
“With your mom?” Morgan asked as he watched Spencer rush out the BAU. The resident genius didn’t even bother to answer, which left Morgan with no other choice than to simply follow behind him. “Hey, Reid!” he called when he caught up to Spencer near the SUV. With furrowed brows and trembling hands trying to unlock the car, the younger man looked up. “Let me drive.” 
And with that said, Derek and Spencer got into the car and drove off to Spencer’s apartment. Derek wasn’t even sure what he was in for, but he trusted Spencer enough to follow him blindly. The two of them entered Spencer’s apartment building and rushed up the stairs to apartment 23.
A scream echoed through the door and reverberated in Spencer’s chest, causing his heart to plummet to his stomach. Derek and Spencer both reached for their guns, ready to shoot whoever’s hurting this screaming person. Another scream came from inside and Derek quickly and swiftly kicked down the apartment door. 
Another scream, but this time because of the sudden disruption. Once Spencer was certain there was no immediate danger, he holstered his weapon, as did Derek. His eyes scanned over his girlfriend. She had her hair scraped back into a messy bun, an old CalTech shirt of his that reached just beneath her bum and underneath it the tiniest of shorts that were barely visible. 
Once her heart had calmed down from the near-heart attack, she tugged the earphones out of her ears. “Fucking hell, Spence, way to give a girl a heart attack.” She threw a cushion from the couch at him. 
“Me?! You weren’t answering any of my calls or texts! I thought you were kidnapped,” he argued before stalking up to her and taking her into his arms into a much-needed hug. 
She pressed a kiss to his jaw. “I’m sorry, I was too wrapped up in that new Taylor Swift song and singing along.”
“Ah, that was the screaming about,” Morgan muttered, shaking his head with a chuckle.  
“I’m just glad you’re okay,” Spencer whispered and kissed her head before remembering there was someone else in the room. Coughing, he looked up at his coworker and only slightly let go of her, keeping an arm around her shoulders. 
“So, you’re ready to tell me the truth now?” Derek asked, a smirk on his face. 
Spencer smiled down at the girl. “Morgan, this is y/n, my… girlfriend.” 
The girl reached out a hand for him to shake and Derek did, but not without eyeing her up and keeping that teasing demeanor. “It’s so nice to finally meet you. Spence has told me so much about you.” 
“Wish I could say the same about you, but unfortunately, Boy Wonder never mentioned you once,” he told her, chuckling. “How did you keep this a secret from all of us?” 
Spencer shrugged. “I thought it would be better to keep our relationship a secret from everyone to keep her safe. We all know what happened to Haley, I don’t–” He inhaled sharply, unable to get the words across his lips. Noticing his sudden tensed shoulders, she interlaced her fingers with the ones on the hand on her shoulder, squeezing them reassuringly. “She kept her old address, just so no one could trace her back to me. Only Hotch and Rossi know.” 
“I wish we could’ve met under better circumstances,” she told him, gesturing to her appearance. 
“Shut up, you look cute,” Spencer reassured her and kissed her temple again. 
The smile never left Derek’s face as he looked at the sight in front of him. “I’m happy for you, Reid, you know that, right?” he asked happily, a hint of pride in his tone that caused her insides to grow mushy. 
From Spencer’s stories, she could tell the team cared about him a lot, but hearing it in real life and seeing it in Derek’s eyes and face meant the absolute world to her. She knew he was safe whenever he was with them, she knew she didn’t have to worry too much when he was out at work. They would protect him no matter what. 
Sensing Derek wanted to talk to Spencer alone, she excused herself and removed herself to the bedroom where she looked for something more appropriate to change into. All while keeping an ear on the conversation between the two coworkers. 
“I know,” she heard Spencer mumble. “I’m just scared, you know? She’s the best thing that has ever happened to me and I don’t want that to be taken away from me… again…” Heat crept to her cheeks as she listened to her boyfriend talk about her. 
“I get that,” Derek said. “She’s important to you – she’s family. Family of yours is family of ours, Reid. You don’t want anything to happen to her, and neither do we. We’d do anything in our power to protect her.” 
“Like we did Haley and Maeve?” 
She knew all about Maeve and Haley. Spencer had explained everything to her. It scared her to death that something like that could happen to the family of the BAU agents as much as it scared her something terrible could happen to Spencer. 
“You know that was out of our control, Reid,” said Morgan. 
A short silence fell and she knew Spencer inhaled deeply before continuing. “I know, but what if the same thing happens to her? I can’t lose her, Morgan. I wanna keep her safe, out of harm’s way.” 
“Don’t you think your best shot at keeping her safe is to have us informed about it? At least then, we can keep her safe and help you protect her,” he explained and she couldn’t help but agree with her. With her heart a little heavier and her outfit changed into jeans and a top with her hair down, she walked out into the living room. 
“He’s right though, baby,” she mumbled, capturing the boys’ attention. 
Spencer sighed, “Y/N.” He shook his head. 
“Don’t “y/n” me, Spencer. Your little family sounds amazing and I wanna be part of that, too.” She wrapped her arms around his waist, placing her head against his chest. “I know you wanna protect me, but don’t you think we both got a better chance if we got them in our lives, too?” 
Another sigh heaved Spencer’s chest, causing her head to move along with it. “Okay, you’re probably right.” He kissed the top of her head before looking at Morgan again. “Text everyone to come over here for dinner.”
“We don’t have enough food for that many people, honey,” she gasped, almost in a panic. 
Spencer shrugged. “We’ll order Chinese.” 
Within half an hour, the entire team had arrived at Spencer’s, one by one getting acquainted with the one he had kept secret for so long. Neither one knew why they were invited to apartment 23 but when they did find out, their reactions melted y/n’s heart. 
First, it was Penelope. The chirpy, colorful blonde she had heard so much about. 
“What’s the emergency? Are you okay, Reid? I–” she stopped in her tracks when her eyes landed on the girl beside the resident genius. “Who–Wha–” she stumbled over her words, her brain short-circuiting. 
With a smile, she reached out her hand to shake Penelope’s. “Hi, I’m y/n.” 
“Reid’s girlfriend,” the brunette that had come up behind her moments after, deducted. 
Penelope’s eyes widened before taking the girl into her arms. “Oh, my God! I knew it! I knew our Boy Wonder was in love!” 
Giggles filled up the apartment. Spencer and y/n couldn’t help but lock eyes, happy this was the reaction from his coworkers to his news. “Happy to meet you, too, Penelope.” 
“Hi,” the brunette greeted when Penelope pulled away. “I’m Alex Blake.” 
One by one, the team filed in, greeting y/n as though she was part of the family. With Chinese food scattered around the dining room table, the whole family sat, ate and asked the couple all the questions they needed answers to. 
“When did you first meet?” The blonde y/n has come to be known as JJ. 
Y/N glanced over to Spencer and took a hold of his hand, entwining their fingers in his lap. “We met at a bookstore, we were reaching for the same book–”
“Flight Behavior by Barbara Kingsolver,” Spencer interrupted. 
“That one,” she concurred with a giggle. “He insisted on buying it for me and I insisted we read it together.” Her nose scrunched up while her lips pressed together, remembering how adorable Spencer was that day, and still was. 
“Damn, boy,” Derek commented. “Didn’t know you had game.” 
“What do you do?” Alex then questioned, moving on from their meet-cute. 
“I’m a primary school teacher,” she responded. “I try to mold and form these brilliant little minds to become something that somewhat resembles this genius’ mind.” She placed her free hand on Spencer’s head and lovingly squeezed. 
A collective bubble of laughter spread through the apartment, causing y/n’s heart to flutter. She loved being around Spencer’s friends. They were lovely and brought out the best in Spencer. While he always had his guard down when he was with her and showed her his soft side, his friends brought out a completely different side in him. A side she had seen before, but never with people other than her. 
For an entire night, the team asked the couple questions, told stories about Spencer even she didn’t know yet and she easily returned the favor. It turned out to be a lovely night that would be grafted into the couple’s minds for a long time. 
“I enjoyed spending time with your friends,” she told him when they were cuddled up in bed afterwards. 
As soon as they hit the mattress, their limbs entangled and her head ended up on his chest. While his hand trailed up and down her back, hers was drawing patterns on his chest. A position they had found themselves in almost every night. 
“Mmh,” he hummed. “They loved you.” 
She let out a giggle. “Of course they did.” 
A laugh rumbled Spencer’s chest, reverberating through her head. It was her favorite sound and feeling in the whole wide world. She lifted her head from his chest to properly look at him, finding him looking up at the ceiling. From this angle, she had a perfect view at his sharp jawline, his curls sticking out here and there, and his long lashes fluttering to keep himself awake. 
“Got any statistics, Doctor?” she then asked, putting her head back in place, right over his heart to hear it beat just for her. 
She could feel him turn his head to look at her. “About what?” he asked. 
“Anything,” she answered. 
He sighed. A content sigh, one where you could hear the smile in his breath. “There’s a hundred percent chance I’m gonna marry you,” he muttered and kissed the top of her head. 
A smile curved her lips upwards while her eyes slowly shut. Her body was completely relaxed, her heart fluttering in his presence. She could see their entire future flash before her eyes. Spencer getting down on one knee at the bookstore, her father walking her down the aisle while his friends and coworkers and his mom sat in the pews. She could see ten tiny toes and ten tiny fingers. 
She could see forever with him. 
“There’s a hundred percent chance I’m gonna say yes.” 
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Everything taglist: @calamitykaty @littlemissaddict @n0wornever @wanniiieeeee @unnowhatthisistbhh
Criminal Minds Taglist: 
@boimlers-gonna-boimm @samsbirks @tinaasthings @dysphoricsanity @love4lando @elenamoncada-ibarra @r-3dlips @magstheslayer @astess 
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junipers-archive · 11 months
Note
spencer reid x bau!reader pining over each other to the point that other law enforcement people (maybe even luke or tara when they first join) think they are dating and are shocked when they find out they are just "friends"?
ah yes yes I love this, and hope you don't mind I added them acting like an old married couple and made it Emily noticing :)) (Word Count: 600)
Today is Saturday's are for Spencer :) request an au!
You were on your way back from the most recent case, loading onto the jet you look over at Spencer, noticing once more how utterly and unfairly cute he was when he was thinking. He was currently absorbed in one of the many books he checked out from the library this week, headphones plugged into his ears, probably listening to some classical music.
Taking a seat next to Rossi and across from Emily you keep your gaze trained on him, the sunlight trickling in through the window as the jet takes off, you observe, gives him an even more ethereal glow.
You blush when you find that Emily's caught you staring at him for perhaps the third time that day. "What?" You try to play it off cooly, only getting a smile back as she replies,
"Nothing, I just think you two are lucky to have each other."
You mouth opens, agape and looking like an idiot you stare at her blankly, you know she's new to the team and she probably hasn't gotten close enough to know the whole story but to think you and Spencer were really dating? That, in your opinion, was insane.
"I-we-Spencer and I, I mean- we're not a c-couple!" You stutter turning a darker shade of rouse as Rossi begins to smirk next to you.
"Might as well be, the way they pine over one another. All we ever hear is 'Spencer this' from her and 'Y/n that' from him." He finally speaks up.
"Don't give me hope Rossi, the only pining is on my part, and I'm happy just to be friends!" The truth was you weren't, far from it in fact, but Emily didn't have to know that, especially seeing as she'd just joined the team.
"So let me get this straight...you're just friends?" She questions you as Rossi chuckles and you shake your head getting up from your seat to take a nap on the couch. You really shouldn't be getting your hopes up, how could someone as perfect as him like you?
When you get to the couch however you find your spot taken by one doctor Spencer Reid.
"Move." Your lips are pouted and you're eyebrows pulled together, and if Spencer didn't know any better he'd think you were the most adorable human being on planet earth.
His heart sinks every time he lets his gaze linger on you too long, knowing that someone as smart, beautiful and funny as you would never feel the same way. So even as he rants about you to the others, even as he spends every waking minute he can with you and falls for you more and more everyday he tries his best not to tip you off.
Which becomes increasingly harder the longer you stand there with that look on your face.
Its Derek clearing his throat that brings Spencer out of this daze,
"S-sorry what?" He takes one of his earbuds out.
"Move." You repeat, "You're on my side of the couch."
He beams up at you and you swear you melt, "And since when was this your side of the couch?"
You cross your arms, leaning your weight on one of your hips, "Since the day I joined the team, this has been my side of the couch!"
He hums in response which only seems to fuel your anger, and as you two begin to bicker like an old married couple the team places bets on who's to confess first.
Rossi and Derek are firm believers that one day Spence will slip up, but JJ is almost certain that its his puppy dog eyes that will tip you off at some point and force you to finally confess.
Emily's still in disbelief when you land a few hours later, asking one last time before you all exit, "Are you sure they're not together??"
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Update: Part 2
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stevebabey · 1 year
Text
somewhere only we know
a/n: i accidentally made this so long & ran with the request in whatever way my heart desired! hope this is enuf hurt/comfort for all ur needs <3 word count: 5.6k summary: You haven’t seen Steve in a few weeks, barely a couple phone-calls keeping your relationship beating. You assume the worst. Steve does his best to make it up to you. [hurt/comfort + miscommunication + established relationship]
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It’s hard to not think he’s avoiding you.
Steve never seemed the type of boyfriend who would be foolish enough to ice you out without so much as a word about something being wrong. He wears his heart on his sleeve — more than anyone you know.
You’d also like to think you would know. That by now, all these months together, you’ve would’ve somewhat memorised the twists and turns of his emotions. But if he’s dropped any clues about being upset with you, you certainly hadn’t picked up on them.
You think you’d prefer his iciness to this odd avoidance.
It has to be that he’s upset, you reason. You would prefer he’s upset; that’s fixable, doable, and completely normal for a couple. The alternative is harsh, a cruel thread of insecure thoughts; perhaps Steve has suddenly decided he doesn’t have time for you.
And it’s a lot harder to pretend that thought doesn’t sting terribly.
And look, you pride yourself on being a logical person. You’re not jumping to conclusions and you aren’t overreacting — at least, you really hope you aren’t. The suspicions aren’t unfounded. It doesn’t stop you from feeling a bit too unstitched, like an obsessed girlfriend who keeps too close tabs on her boyfriend.
Maybe it only feels that way because Steve isn’t checking up on you as much as he used to. The healthy two-way road you both shared has suddenly become, agonizingly, one-way.
You’ve been trying not to count the days apart, nor note the shortness of the calls — just a couple weeks ago, he was talking your ear off and rounding up the phone bill, so what happened? It follows you around, a soft weight that presses your shoulders down, til it leaks in every second thought like a sleepy poison.
You don’t want to be jealous. You don’t want to be clingy.
It’s criminal how you don’t know that Steve would love nothing more.
When it gets to one week without seeing him, some of the worry transforms. You let it turn you away from him, some part deep inside that doesn’t want to get hurt putting up the defenses early, just in case, and you throw yourself into work. Worry about trivial things in your everyday life instead of about him. You give him his space.
One week becomes two. 
You’re not sure what mixture of feelings bubbles up when he calls on Tuesday morning. It feels like resentment, which you desperately shove down — combined with relief, with happiness, to be hearing his voice again. Even if it’s just down the phone line.
“Hi Stevie,” you say into the phone, the affectionate name slipping out, pure habit.
Your grin, an instant result of hearing his voice, fades a bit. You remind yourself to rein in it, an echo of thought that you’re too clingy forcing its way to the forefront of your mind.
“Hi, angel.” He coos back over the line, melting at the sound of your voice. It’s been too long since he’s seen you — he practically sags against the wall, gripping the phone tighter as if it’ll bring you closer to him.
It’s been hectic. He’s been training the new hire at work, since Robin back at school, all while hustling to get in his application for the local community college. On top of that, he’s trying to wrangle the moving details of the new apartment he finally managed to get his name down on.
Hectic feels like the understatement of the century to Steve.
He could tell you — and god, Steve really wants to. But a bigger part of him wants to see the surprise when you realise he’ll have a place that’s all his. No more sneaking through windows or quiet kisses interrupted by someone getting up in the night; an uninterrupted space for his love. Somewhere only the two of you get to know.
He ignores the part of his heart that wants to ask you, sometime in the future, not just yet, to come with him. To make his place yours as well.
For now, it’s all about the surprise. He’d planned it from the beginning, since the moment the keys to the apartment had been pressed into his palm. Steve wanted to treat you, to some swanky candlelit dinner for Friday date night, roses at the door, the whole nine yards, instead of a usual movie date.
The pet name softens you. Something inside eases and you wonder if have been being dramatic — he doesn’t seem different, seemingly unaware of the distance. Hearing his voice makes you miss him all that much more.
“How’s your morning been, huh?” He asks. He could ask how your last couple weeks have been considering how long it’s been since he’s found time to come to see you. He gnaws at his lip, trying to ignore the ache in his heart, and hopes it’ll be worth it.
“It’s been good! I mean as good as-“
A knock sounds at Steve’s front door and he curses, interrupting your reply. You pause, waiting to hear why he’s interrupted.
“Shit, I’m so sorry I’ve gotta— there’s someone at the door.”
Your throat tightens uncomfortably and you swallow it down, praying it won’t come out when you speak. Your voice is thankfully even when you say, “That’s alright. Go get it, just- just call me back later, yeah?”
“Later, definitely,” Steve promises, feeling terrible for having to hang up on the first conversation he’s had with you in too long. What kind of boyfriend is he? He has half a mind to ignore the door, just to keep talking to you — but the knock comes again, more insistent.
If it’s Henderson, Steve swears he’s gonna kick his ass.
“I love you.” His voice says down the line, voice sweet and it’s still enough to kick your heart into a flurry. You feel a bit more settled hearing it and grin, even though he can’t see it.
“I love you too.”
It’s not Dustin at the door— it’s Eddie, flaunting a grin and a gesture to his rust bucket of a van parked in Steve’s drive. Both are here at Steve’s request. Taking all his boxes in the beemer would ensure more than a dozen trips across town. And even with all his excitement to be out of the Harrington house, Steve’s sure it would take all but three trips to tire him out.
Eddie’s a bit early, a far cry from his usual tardiness, and Steve curses his sudden change of habit, today of all days. He tells Eddie as much as he tapes up the last of his open boxes.
Eddie, ever the charmer, let’s Steve direct what to grab and what to leave without much lip, much to Steve’s relief. They talk, a light banter thrown between them, and Eddie asks all the right questions; When’s the first party? What courses is he taking? What lewd favour does he have to do for Steve to let him host DnD there on occasion?
By the time the last box is in the car, Steve shoving Eddie for the mere suggestion — “you can host if you ask like a normal person, dude.” — the phone call is long forgotten.
It’s not his fault, not really. There’s a special frenzy in filling the hardwood floors of his cramped new kitchen with boxes of his stuff, a euphoric buzz that only comes with molding a new space into a home.
By the time he’s unpacked what little he owns into the space — the kitchen only has one pan, two mugs, both gifted to him by Dustin on separate Christmas’, and one or two plates he thought his parents wouldn’t notice missing — it’s late.
The only piece of furniture in the place is some shitty couch he and Robin had dragged off the sidewalk the day before. It’s a bit gross but not so much that he could refuse something free.
Steve sinks into it, drinking in the sight of the empty boxes strewn around his new apartment. Something in his heart glitters happily. For the first time since Eddie showed up at his door, Steve finally relaxes.
It’s 11.41pm and all he wishes is that you were with him.
The phonecall.
Just as quickly as it slipped his mind, Steve remembers it. The memory of it sinks into his stomach heavily and quickly, punching out a breath. His insides twist up with blackened regret as Steve thinks back to how many hours ago he’d promised to call you back. His eyes flash to the watch on his wrist.
He deflates a bit, seeing how late it is. Even though he would — he’d call you at 2am, hell, whenever you asked him to, just to talk — Steve won’t wake your whole family just to apologise.
Shit, he thinks softly and screws his eyes closed for a moment. There was no telling what reaction you’d have, given he’d accidentally blown you off like you were some one-time date, not his girlfriend — hot anger or maybe, icy silent treatment. Nancy had done that to him once; her jaw tight and narrowed eyes giving away her anger even though she insisted I’m fine, Steve, so just drop it.
It’s made all the worse considering he hasn’t seen you in a couple of weeks. Regret feasts in his gut. All of a sudden, keeping all this moving a secret seems colossally dumb. Steve knows you would’ve jumped at the chance to help him move.
It’s an anguishing thought to imagine — the fact the two of you could’ve been unboxing this next chapter together. You’d work up a sweat from the exertion of moving boxes, random fly-aways sticking up and god, Steve would think you were the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen. And then he would’ve coaxed you down to the couch with his kisses til he was sure you knew it too. 
If he wasn’t so set on surprising you, maybe instead you’d be here with him now, nestled in his arms.
Instead, Steve’s alone and you’re across town thinking god knows what about him.
A groan fights its way out of Steve’s throat, dozens of thoughts spinning off each other on how to fix this. How can he make it up to you and make sure you knew he was still thinking of always.
But sleep had to come first.
— 
You’d never admit out loud how long you waited for the phone to ring.
After a certain amount of silence, you’d slowly bled back into your jobs around the house, never straying too far from the phone. You’re not sure what it is that fizzes under your skin but the longer the phone stays quiet, the more it stings. The distance between you and Steve feels yawning.
It rings, only once, and you leap for it — only to get your heart gets washed down the drain at the voice of one of your mother’s friends.
It makes getting up for your Wednesday morning shift seems an impossible feat.
He likely got busy, you have to remind yourself painfully. The Steve you knew would never, never purposefully leave you hanging. You hate the thought that pings into your brain, wondering if there really was anyone at the door. That he told you so he could escape the conversation quicker because he was avoiding you.
That, perhaps, this wasn’t your Steve anymore.
You have to repeat he called you to yourself firmly, trying to drown out the self-doubt. It doesn’t work.
It feels like something final has been decided by Steve and you’ve been left in the dark, grasping at straws. You can’t help but believe that the worst has been confirmed, that Steve doesn’t have time for you anymore. You feel grossly over-attached to him now and know that if you have to pull away, each thread connecting you to him will pull and hurt.
His phone call, Wednesday afternoon, right when Steve knows you’ll be home, doesn’t ease you much.
“I‘m—” He sucks in a huge breath, loud enough you can hear it over the phone. “—so unbelievably sorry that I forgot to call you back. Honest, I promise I had a really good reason to get distracted. I’m so so sorry, It won’t happen again, I swear, scout’s honour.”
The rambling words, tinged with nervousness, manage to persuade a smile out of you. The relief that washes over you feels charged, a bit overwhelming, so much that you can’t keep your voice even when you respond. 
“That’s okay.” You say a little weaker than you intend.
It makes the regret in Steve’s gut twist up a little tighter. It’s gut-wrenching to consider another reaction, that maybe you’re not angry with him but upset. Steve thinks that this is decisively worse. 
“Fuck, sweetheart, I—I’m really sorry.” He insists again, despair leaking into the words. He presses the phone closer. “Please let me make it up to you?”
“Sure.” You say, aiming for nonchalant but the word comes out too tight in your throat. Cursing yourself, you barrel on in hopes to keep Steve talking. You don’t really want to give away how much his distance has affected you. “What was it that distracted you, hm?”
“About that.” Steve chuckles light, beginning to feel his excitement wind up at the prospect of showing you the new place.
The original plan to wait til Friday, to do the proper date, is canned. The giddiness of his new place can’t be contained and there was no one he’d rather share it with than you. And fuck, he misses you.
It had been the last thing he had decided before drifting off to sleep, one of his last nights in his parents’ home. Rain or shine, whether you were angry or not, Steve needed to see you tomorrow.
“Are you free?” He asks, even though he knows you are. By Wednesday afternoon, you’re always free because he usually swings by and takes you out for shakes.
Eyes screwing shut, Steve holds in a wince at the realisation he’d missed that tradition with you for the last two weeks.
And you hadn’t mentioned a word to him.
His heart tears at the thought of you waiting on your doorstep like usual, while he’d been too preoccupied to even remember. He doesn’t want to think about how long it took you to realise he wasn’t coming.
“Can I come see you?” The words burst out before you’ve even answered his first question. It doesn’t matter — seeing you, feeling your touch again, and getting to deliver every kiss he’s saved over the past week takes top priority in his mind. “I promise I’ll—“
Steve thinks he might be cursed because this is the second time he’s been interrupted on the phone with you. This time, however, it’s a very specific hum of a car pulling in the drive; the engine sounding far too smooth to be Eddie’s.
Pulling the phone away from his ear, Steve whips around to peer out at the drive. A stone drops into his stomach at the sight. Beside his BMW, his parent’s car is parked in the usually vacant spot. Fuck.
They had told him they’d be gone a whole extra week and Steve had wanted to be out before they returned — to have everything he needed at the new place before his father decided he needed a lecture and a friendly rough-around on the way out as well.
“Steve?” Your voice warbles out the phone, pulled back from his ear. Steve jumps to attention, remembering himself.
“Baby,” he breathes into the phone, suddenly broken from his prolonged silence. You’re a bit concerned at this point, between his sudden cut-off and now hurried voice. “I- fuck, I have to go. I swear this—”
He groans, pent-up frustration leaking in as he hears the lock enter the front door, announcing his parents’ arrival.
How can he explain all this in the five seconds of privacy before his parents burst his bubble? Steve’s parents didn’t even know about you; dating was strictly a business prospect in the Harrington House. Steve had known from the beginning they would’ve never approved of you.
“Um, okay.” You sound a bit stiff and too casual. “That’s- that’s fine.”
“Please believe me,” He rushes out, eyes fixed on the front door as it opens. “I wouldn’t go if I didn’t absolutely have to.”
It doesn’t matter if they grill them about who’s on the phone, Steve needs to say i love you. Needs to hear it back.
Silence. No response from you. He’s talking to the dial tone.
— 
Your head is a storm.
Conflict rages wildly, a heavy thunder that might be your heartbeat — your anxiety has kicked it up a couple beats — and flashes of lightning, striking terrible thoughts, all contained within your head.
The fact Steve was the one to call you is too weak to keep your head straight. It hurts pathetically, to think you’ve been forgotten. Neglected by someone you hold in the highest regard — and he hadn’t even been able to tell you why. Another phone call where he’s clearly got more important things on his hands.
You didn’t want to hang up on him, not before the usual i love you’s; but if you had waited, then he would have heard how watery it was. Heard the quiver in your voice. And he’d drop everything, all his obviously very important plans, to come see you.
You don’t want him to come over because he’s made you cry — you want him to come over because he wants to see you.
It’s such a simple ask. The fact you think he’d deny you it, too busy, feels heavier than you’d ever imagined. Your pillowcase becomes well acquainted with the taste of your tears as you bury yourself under covers, trying desperately to keep your heart intact.
What happened to your clingy, always touchy, forever wanting you around, boyfriend? It aches to think that that chapter of your relationship may have passed.
Tiredness overtakes your misery at some point, drifting you off into fitful sleep that doesn’t provide any rest.
You’re drawn out of it a few hours later, soft touches that feel like Steve because you’ve felt them dozens of times before, memorised without thought — but Steve is busy or avoiding you, or some third worse thing you don’t want to consider. You shiver off the ghosting pressure in your hair.
A murmur of your name.
The touch of his palm, pressed against your hairline, startles you a bit when you realise it’s real. Your eyes pop open in your surprise, taken aback to find Steve before you. He’s here. 
Crouched by the bed, his hand pushes the strands of your hair back from your face with a gentle touch. He looks as upset as you feel, brows scrunched together in the middle— a frown pulls his lips down, eyes glistening with hurt. He’s upset to see you upset.
“Hi.” He whispers, all soft.
It’s dark out now. Hazarding a guess, you’d say you’ve been asleep for a couple of hours, aided by your exhaustion from crying. You can feel it, eyes stiff and nose still sniffly. It feels pathetic and so you roll in on yourself, tucking your face into your pillow for a moment.
You give yourself a moment to breathe, to gather words to speak to him without falling back to tears and asking outright why he doesn’t like you anymore. Steve’s hand, still stroking soft as ever, coaxes your face out of hiding, his thumb dipping to press warmth along your temple.
“What—“ It comes out too scratchy and you clear your throat. Steve’s hand still soothes your skin, thumb light and loving. “What’re you doing here?”
You don’t need to ask how he got in— Steve’s come in through the window enough times that the movements are all muscle memory. He chews his cheek in deliberation: where to start?
You’ve obviously been crying, a heart-wrenching fact that turns all the more foul considering Steve knows it’s because of him. Maybe even worse is remembering the conversations that had been clipped short, paired with his absence of the last couple weeks. He hasn’t been taking good care of you.
“Had to come see my girl, of course.” He says, low and sweet. His frown pulls up into a weak smile, fingers travelling down cup your face. His thumb catches the first tear that escapes, unbidden, and something alike to horror streams through his system.
“Sweetheart,” he dotes, emotion clinging tightly to his words — his thumb dutifully collects the next tear, as if it makes up the fact he’s caused them. “Wha—“
“Are we okay?”
You have to ask. You can’t handle another affection-soaked word out his lips if there’s still a possibility it may be the last time he’ll give them to you. Your heart aches unbearingly to ask, to even suggest the idea alone and tempt fate, but you have to know.
Steve’s eyes widen, lips parting and for a moment, he’s shocked into silence. It’s like each nerve alights in his body, a flush of physical pain at the mere suggestion you’re making.
You think the time apart is purposeful. Shame follows, scattered scolding thoughts at his carelessness for ever letting you think so. You won’t even look at him, eyes trained on the sheets. 
He faintly recalls being on the other end of this treatment; when Nancy had run around chasing monsters and left him to wonder why she’d decided to leave him out all of sudden. Like Steve, she’d had a perfectly good reason to do so — and yet seeing you like this still unravels the stitching of his heart which falls apart pitifully in his chest.
Every pet name soars to his mind but instead, he just says your name. 
You still don’t meet his eye. As gently as he can, Steve lets his fingers drift to your chin and coax your attention to him. Steve’s forever been about touch, he can think of a thousand different ways to apologise with a brush, a caress, a kiss — far better than he’s ever been at words. He leans in, slow and meaningful.
If you were upset normally Steve would wait, hover, and let you decide whether he’s allowed to steal a kiss. But right now you don’t need his hesitance, you need this; the sweet press of his lips that leaves no room for thinking anything else.
It’s weakening tender. You let the curve of his bottom lip come home to its place between yours.
He kisses you strong, so the fervor in his affection can’t be denied, to banish every thought that lead to your question of are we okay? All his pent-up kisses of the last weeks, all promised to you.
“Yes,” he breathes as he pulls back, still close enough to feel the heat of him. Steve watches your lashes flutter, eyes dance around his face, and settle on his own. “Please don’t ever think we aren’t.”
He kisses you once more and when you chase his mouth, he grants you another gladly, without thought. His lips graze up your face, a warm kiss to your cheek, to your nose, and a final one dropped onto your forehead.
“I’m sorry you thought we weren’t.” He murmurs into your hair. He’s all but encased you — nothing exists but the duvet and Steve before you, hands in your hair, lips on your skin, the scent of him curls comfortingly into your senses.
“I’ll forgive you if you come cuddle.” You grumble with a smile, happy to let yourself lean into his hand, soaking in the closeness. It’s not entirely true — you want answers, to know what has been eating up his time. But being in his arms, a hold you’ve missed for weeks now, will sate you if only for a bit.
Steve breaks into a smile at your words, eyes darting to your window momentarily. He licks his lips.
“Actually, I was hoping to show you something.” Steve suggests though it’s more a question than an insistence. “Show you what’s been keeping me from my girl.”
If you had said no, shook your head, or even just pulled back the duvet, Steve would’ve shucked off his jacket and had you bundled in his arms in an instant. He can see the ticking of your brain, eyes weighing up the tiredness alongside the curiosity of what’s kept your boyfriend from you.
Something in his poorly contained excitement, bottom lip cherry red from him he bites it, sways you.
“Okay.” You mumble, still softly spoken. You nod your head lightly, eyes scanning over his face to drink in the fondness you’ve craved for weeks. “Yeah, s’just wanna be with you right now.”
Your words manage to soften him even more, a ripple that melts through him. Torn between elation at the love and devastation that he’d been the one to keep you both apart for too long.
His thumb sweeps across your cheek once more, crowding back in to press a kiss to your forehead, murmuring his next words into the skin. “Course, honey. C’mon, lemme show you. Promise it’s worth it.”
Your fingers intertwine with his, strong and sure. The small time apart seems to spur you both closer, giggles spilling as you both clamber back out your window, Steve’s hands never parting from yours. The grass is cool against your ankles as you scramble out, stumbling into his chest when you lose your balance — relishing in how it only makes him tug you in tighter.
Even as Steve starts up the car, golden headlights illuminating the empty road, he only untwists his fingers long enough to put the car into gear. There’s nothing but the grumble of the engine, streetlights flashing past, and the cool leather seat beneath you.
At each turn, Steve lifts your hand and kisses along your knuckles, soft and warm. You think he’s still apologising. His eyes seem to be asking for forgiveness, glittering in the dark.
When your hands land back on your lap, this time you’re the one to lift them and brush a kiss along his hand. I forgive you. His grip tightens in your hand.
You’re not sure where you’re heading, too focused on your boyfriend to take note of the route — and it still doesn’t click even when Steve parks outside one of the downtown apartment buildings.
It all feels so juvenile, like giddy teenagers sneaking out, letting Steve pull you across the empty night-time streets with a giggle. The wind wraps around your bare legs, crisp and cool. You hadn’t changed before you’d both left.
It’s only when he spins his key ring around deftly, searching for a specific key, does something slide into place in your mind. Your eyes stare up at the building ahead, then at the keys on Steve’s key ring; he seems to be watching you in his peripheral, waiting for the shoe to drop. He’s smiling.
“Did you...?” You gasp quietly.
Eyes wide, you stare up at Steve and can’t finish your sentence. Your heart trips over itself in its excitement as you finally figure it out. Steve’s grinning now, only taking his eyes off you to insert the lock in the door to the building; he can tell you’ve figured it out now.
The lock makes a clunk as he twists the key, unlocking it. It feels like so much more than opening a door — it feels something akin to unraveling a thousand potential futures, all with you and Steve together in them. Everything about his absence makes sense, a jarring shift in perspective as you realise what he’s been doing all this time.
“What floor?” You ask, sounding a bit breathless already in your excitement. Steve pushes the door to the lobby open, holding it for you to pass through. There’s an elevator but you book for the stairs, clutching his hand the whole time. The lobby door snicks shut behind you, unheard.
Your footsteps clatter loudly, likely waking a few residents, but you can’t find it within you to care. Your thighs burn by the time you reach the top of the first set of stairs and whip around, finding Steve’s adoring grin following you. His hair is a little mussed from the rush.
He nods to the next staircase, fingers squeezing yours excitedly. “One more.”
Steve’s never been happier to let you drag him around, your excitement palpable in the energy of your run. It’s a far cry from your sleepy state earlier.
When you reach the top of the stairs, Steve takes the lead and your flurry of laughter follows him all the way to his new door. The pair of you crowd against it, tangles of arms and lips because you’ve suddenly decided it’s criminal to not kiss him right now.
It’s messy and rushed. You’re back is pressed against the door and Steve kisses you til your knees are weak, hot and hard, even as he tries to wiggle the lock open.
The moment it’s open, you both tumble in a clatter. You kick off your shoes and leave them at the door, spinning to drink in his new place. It’s barren, just a couch, not even a coffee table. You decide it’s already your favourite in the world.
Steve lets you go, watching as you zoom around the space, sliding into the kitchen with a gleeful sound that is far too noisy for the hour.
You’re pulling at every cupboard, leaving a row of open cabinet doors — it doesn’t matter that the apartment isn’t anywhere new, each of them seems endlessly interesting to you. Steve decided he’s had enough of watching, toeing off his shoes and skidding into the kitchen.
His arms around your middle surprise you, some yelp of shock that immediately fizzles into more laughter when Steve picks you up. It’s a halfhearted spin, more to hold you than anything and before you can spin and kiss him like you so desperately want, he’s taking you both down the hall.
Positioning you both in front of a door, Steve pauses. You think you know what door this is. A kiss on your temple. Another on your shoulder, one on your neck. He leaves his face there, nuzzled in closer, and gestures to the door with a jerk of his chin.
“Open it.” He murmurs, between another round of scattered kisses. Like it’s your new bedroom, not his.
Like the rest of the apartment, it’s more empty than not. A poorly made-up mattress against the back wall, beneath the window, and a few bags of clothes scattered throughout the room. You can recognise the forest green duvet cover on the mattress, familiar sheets.
It still smells like Steve when you bury yourself in them, Steve falling down beside you not a moment later. You relish in it all, being surrounded by all things Steve. You’ve missed it all in the weeks apart.
“You’ve certainly been busy.” You mean it as a tease— the fact he’s managed to wrangle down an apartment along with his job and organising college, it’s no wonder he hadn’t found time to see you.
Seeing how his grin dims, eyes drooping, you have no doubt it’s been weighing on him too. “Again, sweetheart, I’m so sorry. That last phone call—“
He sighs, rolling away from you and pushing the heels of his hands into his eyes. A groan rumbles out as he drags them down his face, remembering how you’d hung up on him just earlier today.
“Baby, it’s okay,” you hush him, dragging away his hands to cup his face with your own. His face still holds conflict, the tale of his day unwinding off his tongue before he can think.
“My parents came home early.” He admits, a bit weak. “I was trying to get everything out before they came back— you know how, uh, how they would’ve taken it.”
His eyes close, nose scrunched, just for a moment before he continues. “Eddie had just left to take the mattress over and I called you but that’s when… Well, that’s why we’re just on a mattress on the ground.”
Your light laughter hoists Steve’s mood upwards, feeling himself smile as he watches you beside him on the sheets. You shuffle closer, draping yourself across him so your cheek lays against his chest.
“We can get you a new bed frame.” You say like the prospect is more exciting than it is annoying. Steve adores how you say we — that you’ll come with him, pick things out for this next part of his life. Intertwine into the things he owns now, as well as in his heart. 
“I’m sorry for hanging up on you earlier.” You breathe a little softer, and then as if it’s just delayed from the call, you say, “I love you.”
Some part of him that Steve can’t ever seem to shake sighs in relief. Today is not a bad day at all. You’re here, in his arms, in his new place and you love him still.
“I love you too.” Steve hums, arms pulling tighter around you. “And I’m sorry for making you worry.”
When you look up at him, really look, his eyes are shining. His shirt is rumpled, hair ruffled from your tangle onto the bed and he looks utterly beautiful. It just won’t do. You shift upwards and when you kiss him, it’s hard and fiercely loving. Too much saved affection coming out in one go.
Steve sighs happily against your lips, arms tightening and when you break apart, Steve nearly asks then and there. Come with me. Make this our bedroom instead of just mine. We’ll make this somewhere only we know.
It’s not the time. Instead, he whispers his i love you’s onto your lips and when he spills all his half-baked plans for dates and the endless possibilities of the new space, when he promises to never worry you like that again — you’ve got no choice but to believe him.
His endless kisses won’t let you believe anything else anyways.
tags below!
@hawkinsindiana @spideystevie @harringtonbf​ @televisionboy
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taedros tresdros
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part one: taedros taedros ☆ part two: taedros twodros wc: 2.2k reader: afab reader (pretty sure no specific gender mentioned but putting this disclaimer just in case!) warnings: smut 18+; MINORS DNI!!! -- specific warnings under the cut -- also some angst and some fluff :) summary: uh-oh... you fell for your best friend taerae. but was it all in vain after he's ghosted you the past two weeks? *ੈ✩‧₊˚ ITS DONEEE! you will notice i've went with "taedros tresdros" for the title. decided to keep all three parts with taedros as the first word lol. this is the finale for this little series and i really hope you like this ending i've made lol. i am so happy you've all enjoyed taedros taedros -- stay tuned for more works soon (hopefully) xx
*ੈ✩‧₊˚
warnings: 18+ explicit smut, fingering and oral (reader receiving), cumming in pants, eavesdropping/voyeurism by reader but it's only out of shock/anger, swearing, lots of innuendo in this one lmao... i think that's it!
*ੈ✩‧₊˚
“so, the ring finger goes here?” you hear a feminine voice ask; ear pressed gently to taerae’s door to hear better. just a few moments ago, you’d been taking deep, steadying breaths as you walked through the entrance to your best friend’s dorm building on your way to finally confront him.
something that was so familiar now made your heart race with anxiety. 
but when you’d rounded the corner to taerae’s room, you were surprised to find the door shut almost all the way. usually taerae left his door wide open, even when he was playing the guitar or getting changed or sleeping. in fact, his dorm-mates told you one night when you were leaving that the only time taerae made an effort to close it was when you were over... you couldn’t hear any noise coming from his room, which made you all the more curious as to what was going on in there. 
walking up to his door, you’d seen it was propped open just a bit by one of taerae’s shoes. you couldn’t see through the gap in the door, but you’d heard quiet murmurings from inside and gently placed your ear to the door to listen closer. the sound of a girl’s voice had completely shocked you. especially considering what you’d come here to talk about with taerae.
“yeah, it might take a bit to find the sweet spot,” taerae answers with a chuckle; his answer causing your jaw to drop. fingers? sweet spots? what the fuck is going on in there!?
“mmm, thank you again for teaching me, taerae,” the voice responds. upon closer listening, you realize you know this voice. it belongs to your world history classmate, jinah-- the girl who sits behind you and doodles the entire period. she’s very nice-- pretty and athletic, too, but...
you didn’t really think taerae was her type.
you hadn’t spoken to taerae much in the last couple weeks. ever since you’d actually slept together... things had changed. it felt like your best friend was avoiding you. when you’d texted to ask about movie night the past two fridays, taerae had said he was busy with homework both times. normally taerae would meet you for lunch in the student union every other day in between his music theory class, but he hadn’t come by since then. he’d barely said two words to you at choir practice last night.
was this why? he’d decided he liked jinah instead? he couldn’t face you after... using you? 
taerae would never do that. not to you. probably not to anyone.
then again, you’d never talked about whether what was going on between you was exclusive or not. and what it meant to you; what he meant to you. had you completely misinterpreted this whole situation?
“and the middle finger...” jinah trails off and the mental picture you have unfortunately painted in your head of the scene taking place is enough to make you gag.
“that one’s gonna reach as far up as possible,” taerae explains. if you had known your best friend was offering masturbation classes out of his dorm room, you probably would’ve been more careful about where you were sitting on his bed.
“i don’t think i can reach that far,” jinah huffs with a frustrated sigh. “it kind of hurts.”
“relax,” taerae soothes. “it’ll feel better if you relax.”
your hand flies to your mouth to muffle the sound of the audible gasp that escapes you, but your elbow hitting the door blows your cover. you stand up quickly as taerae’s door swings open-- revealing you in the doorway to taerae and jinah.
... and revealing jinah sitting on taerae’s bed and holding a guitar (quite clumsily, if you may be so brazen) in her hands; taerae sitting next to her and seemingly offering some sort of instruction.
“you--...” you stutter, surprised and also incredibly relieved to find that the lessons taerae was giving were much more wholesome than you’d been forced to imagine for the past few minutes. “oh thank fuck holy shit.”
as the uncontrollable string of grateful curse words leaves your mouth, jinah clears her throat awkwardly and stands up; removing the guitar strap from around her neck and handing the instrument to its owner.
“sorry for interrupting,” you mumble, bottom lip finding its way between your teeth as taerae glares at you. 
“no, it’s okay! i have to finish an essay for tomorrow anyway,” jinah replies, picking up her bag and walking towards the door. you step to the side for her to get by, awkwardly smiling as she calls behind her, “thank you, taerae! see you next week!”
jinah retreats down the hallway, leaving just you and taerae alone in a tense silence.
“what are you doing here?” taerae asks, rather unceremoniously. “it’s a thursday night. you have tutoring on thursday nights. that's why we have movie night on fridays.”
you nod, still leaning against the doorframe. “my last appointment cancelled so i--... i wanted to come talk to you.”
“oh,” taerae replies with a nod. “okay.”
you frown. “okay?”
“yeah,” he says, looking down at his guitar in his hands; starting to strum it lightly. “okay.”
your eyebrows raise in shock as your best friend seemingly shrugs you off. you walk over to him and snatch the guitar from his hands by its neck.
“HEY!” he protests as you bring the instrument over to its stand and place it there annoyedly (but carefully; you’re not an asshole). “i was playing that.”
“what the fuck is the matter with you!?” you snap, turning back around to face him. “you’ve been avoiding me for two weeks!”
taerae visibly gulps; eyes falling to the floor. 
“and this is how you’re gonna act?” you scold, folding your arms across your chest. “after we...”
for some reason you’re unable to say it. taerae is silent-- seemingly holding his breath as he waits for you to continue. coward.
“i came here to talk to you about everything and--... and then i heard you through the door giving jinah a fucking guitar lesson,” you explain while rolling your eyes. “better than the lesson i thought you were giving her, but...”
taerae looks up at you now; brow furrowed as his head tilts to the side confusedly. “w--... what kind of a lesson did you think i was giving her?”
you blink back at him; unsure of whether to tell the truth or not. but taerae catches on before you can commit to a lie.
his jaw drops in shock. “you thought--... did you think--”
you look down at your feet: embarrassed, anxious, and just plain sad after the events of the last couple weeks. this mixture of emotions forms a lump in your throat that you are now hopelessly trying to suppress. “i’m really sorry for interrupting. and for listening a bit. i just don't know what happened. i thought we were--... i thought you felt the same way that i did, but... you just must be really upset with me and i don’t know what i did but i’m so sorry and i really miss you so i wanted to talk to you and i just was... i dunno, i thought--”
taerae cuts off your rambling by standing up and wrapping his arms around you tightly. against your neck, he soothes, “ssh, baby. it’s okay-- it’s all okay. i promise.”
“i like you,” you confess into taerae’s sweatshirt. “i’m sorry, i didn’t know this would happen. but i really like you, tae.”
"fuck-- i like you, too. of course i like you, too,” he says, pulling back to look at you. “and this is all my fault.”
you sniffle as you ask, “what did you do this time?”
“something really, really stupid,” he replies with a sad smile.
mirroring his expression, you quip, “what else is new?” 
“yeah, yeah,” he accepts with a laugh. cupping your cheek in his hand, he runs his thumb across the skin sweetly. “i thought i was the one who fucked up... by falling for you.”
“... oh,” is all you can manage to say.
“oh is right,” he says, leaning in and kissing your lips gently. “i honestly wasn’t sure what to do about it. i didn’t want to hurt you and i thought maybe just... avoiding you for a bit would make it easier for me to stop having feelings for you. but it didn’t. it just hurt you and me more-- and it was really immature. i’m so sorry.”
you wrap your arms around his neck, having forgiven your idiot of a best friend before he even apologized. “i missed you so much.”
“i missed you more,” taerae says, peppering your cheeks with kisses. you giggle; taerae grinning before attaching his lips to yours again.
“but, um,” you say quickly, pulling back to meet his gaze. “i’d love to put in a request for no more guitar lessons with the door closed, if the suggestion box is still open.”
“it is,” taerae says with a laugh. “suggestion accepted, approved and implemented.”
“and, uh, maybe they don’t have to take place on your bed,” you say, biting your bottom lip and hiding your face in his chest.
“i will have you know my conduct is strictly professional at all times,” taerae replies and you can hear the smirk in his voice. “but you’re completely right. not to mention, it was probably rude of me to let her sit on my bed... without telling her what it’s covered in.”
“TAERAE-YA!” you shout, hitting his chest as he pulls you toward his bed-- pushing you down gently onto the mattress and climbing between your legs with ease. “you do wash your sheets, don’t you?”
he just laughs.
“tae, that’s gross,” you reply, shaking your head as he cups your center over your jeans. your protesting starts to waiver as he applies more pressure to where you need him most. “you--... you really should--”
“enough, enough, baby-- of course i wash them,” he replies, hooking his fingers around the belt loops of your jeans and shimmying them along with your underwear down your legs before discarding them on the floor. then he smirks at you, adding, “but sometimes i do wonder what the point is when you’re just gonna get them dirty again.”
“fuck,” you whine as taerae admires you. he’s licking his lips like he hasn’t eaten in days-- and he hasn’t. you wonder how he’s survived this long without you.
“so,” he says, starting to circle your clit with two fingers. his rhythm isn’t steady though; it’s intoxicatingly teasing. “what did you think i was teaching in these ‘lessons’?”
you feel your face heat up again at the mention of your faux pas. “don’t make fun of me.”
“never, baby,” he says; a glimmer of mischief in his eyes. “i’m just curious what you think i’m enough of an expert in to be qualified to teach.”
“i--... oh my god,” you say, shaking your head with embarrassment. “i thought you were teaching her how to finger herself!"
“hmm, i guess i can understand the confusion,” taerae runs his fingers through your folds, gathering some of your slick and painting it across your stomach. “since playing guitar requires so much skill with your fingers.”
“shut up,” you reply, pouting at him.
“no, really,” he insists with a nod. as he pushes his middle finger into you gently, you gasp at the sensation. “like, to play a chord; each of your fingers needs to hold down the correct string and in the correct spot. like, to play a d chord for example.”
taerae strokes up into your walls with his middle finger, causing you to whimper. “see this middle finger needs to be on that ‘high e’ string. and then the ring finger...”
plunging another finger into you, your hand reaches to grab onto taerae to steady yourself. he smiles at you, pressing both fingers firmly against your walls now. “will sit nicely on that ‘b’ string right here.”
as he works his fingers against your walls lazily, you whine-- desperate for more friction and soon. your prayers are answered when taerae inserts a third finger, stretching you carefully until he’s able to push it all the way in.
“and finally, the index finger is going to go...” he laughs lightly before pushing his index finger into the spongy, firm spot in your walls that only he has ever been able to find. as you cry out in pleasure, taerae presses kisses to your thighs. “you might’ve guessed, but that one’s on the ‘g’ string. and listen to that beautiful sound it's making.”
“did you--... did you plan that g-spot joke?” you ask breathlessly in between pleading moans as taerae picks up the pace of his fingers. “you’re the--*hic!*... worst person i know.”
the little hiccup from pleasure that separates your insult sends taerae reeling. “fucking perfect, huh? every inch of you.”
“baby, please,” you beg, self-control low after two weeks without taerae. “wanna cum. please, wanna cum for you.”
taerae moans and, from the way he’s looking at you, you know he’s just as desperate as you are. he falls to his stomach now between your legs as he says, “was gonna try to... keep my mouth off of you. show you i really like you. you-- not just your pussy but...”
“fuck it,” you both say at the same time.
lips attaching to your clit, taerae wastes no time in pushing you closer to the edge as he laps, sucks, eats at you-- one leg of yours hooked over his back as he continues to work you with his left hand. 
“tae,” you whimper, hands in his hair as you grind your hips into his touch. “g’nna cum... please, gonna cum.”
taerae whines and, with the state you’re in, you don’t even notice how feverishly he’s grinding into the bed. he switches to sucking, lips tugging perfectly on your clit and it’s all over for you.
“fuck, i--... i--... m’cumming,” you moan, taerae’s name falling from your lips a few dozen times as you come down from your high. “oh my god.”
taerae is noticeably quiet; removing his fingers from inside of you, he laps at the juices that drip out of you with his eyes closed. you know he really likes you... but it’s very possible he likes your pussy just as much. you’re not complaining.
“tae,” you call sweetly, sitting up on your elbows. “baby? come here-- want you to fuck me.”
he opens his eyes, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand as he sits up a bit. “um... so, about that.”
his gaze trails down to the crotch of his jeans and you follow it to find a nice, big wet spot soaking through the denim. 
“are you serious!?” you whine in frustration; sighing as taerae smiles at you sheepishly.
“i’m sorry,” he apologizes with a cute little pout. “will you forgive me if i say it’s because you’re just too hot?”
you roll your eyes-- grinning at him. “i’ll consider it.”
“thank god, because i think i can probably make it up to you...” he says, sitting up and grabbing your jeans from the floor. “after some dinner.”
you laugh. “are you asking me out?”
“i totally am,” he answers with a smile.
“you’re sure you’re not too... full?” you joke, grabbing his hand in yours. “you did just eat.”
taerae shakes his head, smirking at you:
“trust me-- i’m never full when i’m with you.”
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j-0ne25 · 1 month
Text
PARASITE EVE
CHAPTER [IX] of LEVANTER [18+!]
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“Baby, hold on tight, yeah? I promise nothing will happen,” Minho reassures you.
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⛓️ SYNOPSIS: While Jisung is in prison, Minho and you desperately try to find any hints that could prove he isn’t guilty. But this isn’t the only problem you are facing—as you are caught between that ongoing tension with none other than your husband’s best friend, you don’t expect that only a certain someone will be able to help you rescue the love of your life.
💊 CONTENT INFO: jisung x afab reader, chan x afab reader, minho x afab reader, gang/mafia au, angst/smut/fluff, gang leader jisung, doctor chan, gang member minho, pls refer to masterlist for more info, content warning under the cut [include spoilers]
💵 WORD COUNT: 18.2K (whoops)
🔪 CONTENT WARNING: [not too specific to not spoil the whole plot so read at your own risk] mental health topics, mention of suicidal thoughts in the past, blackmailing and threats, gambling, mention and use of guns, death of tertiary character, mention of death of both parents, mention of cancer [tertiary character], cigarette smoking, explicit sexual content [includes dom/sub dynamics, semi-protected sex, use of pet names such as kitten, baby, slut and good boy]
🧨 SPOTIFY PLAYLIST
The characters do not portray any of the skz members in real life, the names are just used for fiction. Minors do not interact, this post contains mature topics. By reading you consent to nsfw content and agree that you have read all the warnings above carefully.
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The room feels cold when you enter it. The air is sticky, nicotine lingering around, making it up to your nostrils. A cough breaks out of your mouth, your throat getting sore again. You might think there’s a bad cold waiting ahead of you but it might just be your body telling you it has had enough.
You take a few steps towards the group of men that are sitting around the table, sipping on their glasses that are filled with high-end whiskey, ice cubes swimming around, while they are focused on the game that’s playing in front of them.
“You came,” one of the voices says. You can’t see his face, his back turned in your direction. But you nod, approaching them further while all other males are ogling your form, their eyes trailing down your curves that are hugged by that skimpy black dress. It makes you feel uncomfortable, to say the least.
However, what’s more disturbing is the fact that the man who just spoke to you sounds a little too familiar for your liking. You already know who he reminds you of but you don’t want it to be true. This would truly give you the rest if he—the one and only you’ve been relying on these past months since your husband isn’t here anymore—was all behind it.
After all, you came here with a purpose. Minho and you have been talking about it for two weeks now. The casino downtown, that’s located pretty close to where Jisung’s lounge—The Velvet—has its home might have some connection to that drug page that brought the love of your life behind bars.
You have thought it through, you have spent days and nights contemplating plans how to get the men that must be truly behind it, some hints leading you to a sketchy gambling venue that you have been to before with your husband. But you truly didn’t believe that when his best friend and you agreed on you going there first, seducing some of the men to possibly gain evidence—a recorder attached to your lingerie that’s hidden underneath the little black fabric—you’d be hit by a surprise like this one.
Walking further, the man that talked to you finally turns around. There’s this evil smirk on his face, one that he has used around you a couple of times—especially on those two occasions when he had his dick inside your cunt. You’ve thought you could trust him. But his lies have made it pretty clear that this isn’t the case.
“Surprised to see me, kitten?”
Your heart stops. It’s truly him. Why the hell is Minho here if you agreed that you would go here first? Why is he already surrounded by the guys you were supposed to be spying on? Does it mean what you think it does?
“Didn’t expect that smartass to walk right into your trap, Lee,” one of the middle aged men says to Minho, mocking you.
“Hm, I’ve got her right where I want her and she fell for it. Poor little girl.”
He gets up, your heart by now pumping out of your chest. A high pitched noise makes it to your ears, tinnitus turning you deaf for a moment, while your eyes get tired and your vision becomes blurry.
Minho stands in front of you now, his hands holding your waist when he sees how fragile you’ve become.
“What the hell is this, Min? What sick games are you playing?”
He chuckles, “You did fall for it. I’ve been behind this website—well, not entirely.”
“The fuck do you mean? You were the one to create C.Drugs?”
“Not alone. Your husband was a great help, I have to credit him here,” Minho snickers.
You feel your stomach twist and turn. It’s been these two all along? Minho and Jisung were behind the website after all and when they got caught, they tried to blame it on Chan? Considering the title of said page, you wonder if that was some psycho master plan all along.
“You’ve gotta be kidding me,” you let out.
“I’m not. I’ve only ever been honest with you, baby. Well, mostly. So, will you now help us do the rest so we can rescue your husband and put your poor little best friend in jail instead?”
Is this the reason why Jisung married you? Has he truly ever loved you? Has Minho truly ever been your friend? Or have they only cared for one another and used you as their doll in the sick games they are playing?
Speaking of, Minho reaches inside his suit, handing you exactly this. A doll. Not just any doll. A matryoshka. She’s wearing a red scarf to cover her black hair, pink blush decorating her happy face. The dress she’s wearing is crested with flowers.
“What does that mean?”
Minho looks at you, wrapping his hand around your wrist to turn you towards another direction.
“Ask him.”
💊
Your eyes open, your chest and back are covered in sweat, as pure darkness surrounds you. Heavy pants are filling the bedroom, as panic rushes over you.
It happened again. You had this disturbing dream again about the casino and those dolls and the men. It’s been so many nights in a row that you’ve lost count. Well, it’s not surprising, considering you spend all your time trying to find any evidence.
But something was different this time.
The man who spoke to you had a face. Usually he doesn’t have one or it’s just an animated, cartoon-like copy similar to the matryoshka he hands you every time.
Tonight, the man was Minho. Your husband and his best friend were behind it all.
Your breath gets stuck in your throat when you reminisce about the scene that your brain played in front of your closed inner eyes. You’re obviously not a clairvoyant but it still leaves you more than uneasy how this whole situation has such an impact on your sleep.
Minho, the other members of Levanter and you have poured all your energy into finding some hints and clues these past weeks and although you found something, it’s still not enough to bring your husband out of jail. You thought about a prison break too, but that’s too risky at that early stage.
Your chest still feels heavy, blood pumping through your veins at a concerning speed. You finally manage to switch on the lamp on the nightstand table. Checking your phone, you realise it’s once again the same time that you wake up.
01:43
You’d blame it on some book you’ve been reading with the title Case 143 by some author named Cecilia Fraise but it isn’t just that. 01:43 was also the time you received a message from that anonymous number the day before Jisung left.
A shiver runs down your spine, solely thinking about it. The texts haven’t stopped, they rapidly increased in quantity and you thought about blocking the number, hell, you even considered getting a whole new phone but those messages could be evidence after all.
If it weren’t only messages. At one point some weeks ago, the person sending them started adding a little emoji. A matryoshka doll. You wondered what that could mean and decided it’s probably just some weird idea of showing their identity with a reoccuring symbol.
Until one day, when you came back from a night at The Velvet with Minho and Hyunjin and found a little matryoshka doll inside your mailbox. It was the smallest of one set, the same colours and patterns like the one that keeps popping up in your dreams. You grabbed it and brought it inside the apartment because, again, it could be evidence.
Suddenly, your bedroom door swings open, revealing your husband’s best friend behind it. Frame after frame of your disturbing nightmare repeats themselves, anxiety plastered all over your body.
“Y/N? Hello?”
You hastily start blinking, “W-What?”
“I asked if you were okay… you were screaming pretty loud,” he explains with a soft voice.
What if what you saw in your dreams was true? What if Minho and perhaps even Jisung are behind that stupid website and were secretly trying to just get rid of Chan instead?
That would be too twisted, right?
But then again, you seriously don’t know who to trust anymore except for your cats.
And Minho reckons it. He sees that you are—on top of being anxious—more hesitant than usual. So, he decides to still approach you but keep enough space between the two of you when he sinks down on the mattress. Your husband’s best friend has been staying in the guest room since Jisung disappeared. However, he still hears you screaming from dreaming almost every night.
Usually, he rushes to your room then, reassuring you and bringing calmness with him. But tonight this doesn’t seem to help because he is what you are afraid of this time.
Could it be?
Could your horrific nightmare be true?
Your stomach turns, thinking about the possibility. But Minho and Jisung are criminals after all. It is out of question that they are capable of pulling a move like that on Chan. But could that really be the truth?
Your world would fall into pieces, if this turns out to be reality. Jisung, your loving husband, just using you as a bridge to get to Chan again and put him behind bars for the sake of his gang’s success.
Is this the true reason why Chan barged into the bathroom on your wedding day? You remember him trying to explain something that wasn’t connected to his jealousy but you brushed him off before he could. You might regret that now.
Or you’re just stupidly overwhelmed at this point. You don’t know anymore which end is up. The world has turned around and so has your life.
“C-Can… Can I come closer?”
Minho’s quiet voice makes it into your ears and lets your gaze snap in his direction. He looks worried, circles under his eyes so dark you can even witness them in the dim light of your bedroom.
So, you nod.
It was just a dream, Y/N. This isn’t real. This man in front of you isn’t the same one that appeared in your nightmare.
Minho slowly scoots closer, taking the side that was once reserved for Jisung, before he crawls under the blanket. He’s only wearing some boxers, not bothering to put on a shirt during mostly sleepless nights which makes it even harder to focus. But you’re glad he’s under the covers now, for your own sake.
“Are you having those nightmares again?”
You turn around a little, so you can face him.
He’s anxious. A little helpless, for sure. Minho doesn’t know what he should do anymore. He wants to call Jisung and tell him to come home so you can sleep peacefully again but this isn’t possible.
“Y-Yes,” you reply.
“What happened this time, kitten?”
You don’t know if you can share this. But you also know that Minho won’t tolerate no answers. Not when he found you like this—puffy face and red eyes from crying, droplets of sweat trickling down your forehead while you’re snuggled up like a burrito inside your blanket.
“The d-dolls were there… and… the man,” you decide to tell him then.
Well, it’s a reoccuring dream after all. It’s always this exact scene. You go to the casino, waiting there for Minho who is supposed to get there after you but those men after faster and capture you. All this time, the guy that approaches you and reveals himself to be the mastermind of C.Drugs hasn’t had a face. Except for tonight.
Minho’s gaze switches towards your nightstand, right where the smallest matryoshka doll is. Up until this day, you have received three more—one handed to Minho with the check he received when you went to The Velvet some nights ago, the third was left at Hyunjin’s tattoo studio but he can’t recall whose it must have been and the last one got sent to Seungmin when he was at the headquarters and ordered delivery food. The delivery guy just left the food—and the doll there—without seeing the gang member. This all happened on the same day you received the first one.
It’s fucking disturbing and scary. Sure, a matryoshka doll isn’t as creepy as dolls that they use in horror movies but you have no idea what that weird symbolism is supposed to tell you.
“No face again?”
You start blinking, realising you’re still in your bedroom in the middle of a conversation with Minho.
“Huh?”
“I mean the man… in your dream. Did he have a face this time?” he repeats.
You search for any signs in his face that could indicate an ulterior motive.
God. You’re definitely going crazy. But you can’t tell him. You can’t tell Minho he was the man that appeared in your nightmare.
“Y/N, come on, talk to me. Did that man have a face?” Minho asks again.
You shake your head. Minho just scoffs and you notice his jaw clenching. This makes you feel even more uneasy.
“Don’t lie to me,” he says, his brows furrowed, as he comes a little closer.
On instinct, you scoot a bit back. Minho grasps then that he must have been a little too harsh with you.
“Y/N… I’m sorry. I didn’t want to scare you. I just want to help you, that’s all,” he says with that soft voice.
That soft voice that has helped you through all the other sleepless nights, that talks to you about possible strategies to solve the case and rescue your husband, that speaks to you so gently when anxiety overcomes you again.
And it gives you a little courage to answer.
“He… he did have a face, yes,” you say, almost inauble.
Minho hums, feeling his heartbeat quickening, “Whose face? Someone you know?”
All you’re physically able to do is nod.
“Would you like to tell me?”
Actually, no. But maybe it’s for the best. Otherwise you will be alone with that heavy wait and if you share that piece of information with him, maybe it’ll help you categorise his reaction. Not that you actually think that Minho is the owner of C.Drugs of course. Although you basically don’t know anything about that guy.
“You won’t judge?”
Minho tilts his head, looking at you confused, “Why would I judge? You can’t control your dreams, after all.”
The tip of your tongue grazes over your lips that have suddenly run dry and your husband’s best friend has to gather up all his strength to not focus on that sight. God. He’s become so pathetic, he’s embarrassed of himself sometimes.
“It was… it was you,” you confess. “You were behind C.Drugs.”
For a solid half a minute, Minho doesn’t say anything. Hell, what the fuck is he supposed to say, after all? Are you suspecting him now? Is this why you hesitated and kept more space between the two of you than usual?
“Min? Say something… please,” you whine.
“I-I’m… God, I’m sorry that you had to go through this. It’s just a dream, a very bad one, but that sounds horrifying,” he says, unable to look into your eyes.
You can’t read him. You can never read him and this time it’s extraordinarily complicated.
“How… How did I behave in your dream?” he dares to ask now.
You gulp, your heartbeat rushing again when you think back to the made up memory.
“You… you were kinda mean to me. Laughed at me for not realising. A-And then you said t-that you and Jisung were the ones who created the website.”
“Fuck…” he lets out, thinking about how much fear you must have felt during that moment. And still now. And when he came to your room.
“You told me that… you named it C.Drugs so you could blame it on Chan and get rid of him,” you explain further.
Minho’s eyes widen, “As much as I hate that bastard and as much of a scorpio I am, this makes me afraid of myself.”
He notices a small smile on your face, a little sign of comfort.
“What happened then? Did you wake up?”
You shift a little, adjusting your position on the bed, “You gave me another matryoshka doll. Same design as the ones we got from that anonymous stalker. When I questioned why you gave me the doll, you told me to turn around and said ‘ask him’—whatever that means. Then I woke up,” you add.
“‘Ask him.’ What do you mean by that? Who do we have to ask?”
Minho’s gaze wanders around in your room, his hand finding his head, dishevelling his hair a little. He’s confused but focused at the same time, if that even makes any sense.
“I don’t know. Dream-Minho was probably hinting at who is responsible for the dolls,” you suggest.
He nods, “Possibly. God, this is so creepy. So fucking real, too. I’m so sorry that this whole shitshow affects you so much, kitten.”
Your heart skips a beat when you listen to the pet name but you manage to brush off how flustered you have gotten. Besides that, there’s—unfortunately—another thought harassing your mind now thanks to the weird nightmare.
Chan.
God, you’re getting sick of yourself, really.
But you can’t help it. Despite not having him in your life anymore, despite you cutting him off several weeks ago on your wedding day, this stupid scene makes you think of him again. You wonder how his life is, you wonder if he’s safe. Chan is probably busy with his own shit from his own gang.
It’s so dumb that he’s still getting under your skin after all the pain he’s caused. It’s ridiculous, really. Why on earth do you always have to try to see the good in people that constantly hurt you and your loved ones?
But of course it isn’t easy to let go of your long time best friend. That’s the issue with any type of toxic relationship. They are like roller coasters. The contrast between good and bad memories is insane. Sure, he’s taken you for granted and hurt you in more ways than anyone else ever did but he’s played a huge role in your young adult life, too.
“What’s on your mind?”
Of course Minho has noticed you drifting off. After all, you don’t bother to hide it anymore.
“No judgment?”
Will it be weird to talk to him of all people about your ex lover? Absolutely.
Will Minho be able to beat some sense and rationality into you? Definitely.
“No judgment ever, sweetheart,” he reassures you. All of a sudden, his hand finds yours, as he reaches for it and places it in his own. You hope that he doesn’t notice what it does to your stupid little heart—being so close to him in such a vulnerable state—but Minho seems to be able to grant you some type of comfort that doesn’t differ so much from Jisung’s. They are best friends after all.
Okay, you’ve got this, Y/N.
“I am wondering… what Chan is doing these days,” you confess, feeling a little embarrassed that this asshole is even occupying your mind.
“Kitten, you shouldn’t waste a second thinking about that guy,” Minho sighs, softly stroking the back of your hand with his thumb.
“Yeah… you’re right… it’s just– I lost my best friend, you know? It’s not just the fact that I was in love with him or whatever but he used to be my best friend. I-I think that without him in my life… I wouldn’t be here anymore today. That’s why it’s so complicated to let go.”
Although it’s hard to speak those words, it's nothing but the truth. You’ve been at some pretty dark places during the past three years. The meds didn’t do much anymore, other issues added to it and the serotonin was basically non-existent. A heavy time of pure depression followed with a deep urge of not wanting to exist anymore. You didn’t crave death per se, but you didn’t want to live either.
Chan helped you out of bed, made or brought food for you three times a day, cleaned the apartment together with Gahyeon despite the two of them not getting along. He made you go to therapy again, slowly getting back into living your life.
You don’t want to know what this misery could have evolved to if he hadn’t been there.
Minho slowly nods, “I understand you. You can still value all the good things he did for you, you know? It doesn’t have to be all black and white. People make mistakes. People are toxic because others passed their trauma onto them. It’s a terrible spiral. Or circle. Whatever.”
Tears rush up to your eyes, when you listen to his words. He truly touches you with these few sentences. Minho’s hand lets go of your own, before it wanders up to your cheek, gently brushing away that single droplet that made it down your skin.
“What I’m trying to say is,” he begins again, “Chan can be a good friend in the past but he can also be unable to be a good friend in the present. That’s how life is.”
You’ve never thought about it like this but it makes absolute sense. Maybe he was supposed to be your best friend for a certain part of your life but not the endgame. And that’s okay. He was a good friend, he did lots of good things for you. He isn’t a good friend anymore.
“Maybe you’re right… I still… miss him, though, you know? I wish I had handled this differently… at the wedding,” you admit.
“You did everything you could. I believe that a conversation like this and space from one another is exactly what you need. You’ve been a lot better regarding this. And you’re allowed to miss him, too,” Minho reassures you.
You’ve never expected him to be someone who is open to talk about emotions like this. He usually isn’t like this at all—except for when it comes to Jisung and you, which is possibly why he gets worried again. He isn’t supposed to have feelings for his best friend’s wife but these past weeks he’s come to terms with it. It’s a tragic story, really. No happy ending in sight for him.
Perhaps, it doesn’t matter anyway. Because once again he is hiding something from you and you will find out the truth you will definitely not talk to him anymore. But it’s for the best, for your best after all. You wouldn’t have agreed on the plot he is hatching behind your back if he told you about it.
“In case he… I know this sounds dumb but… in case he’d ever reach out to you, you’d let me know, right?”
Minho hesitates. “Of course, kitten.”
“Thank you, Min.”
You can’t help yourself but fall forward and right into his arms. Minho is a little overwhelmed and surprised but catches you in a stiff hug that turns softer and calmer within the following seconds. Oh, he’s got a big storm coming.
💊
When you wake up the next day, the other side of the bed is empty but still warm. Minho’s phone is placed on the nightstand table and currently charging, indicating he must have left the bedroom not that long ago.
You get up, feeling a little tired from the lack of actual good sleep these past days or weeks. Somehow, you still make it to the bathroom and manage to take a long and warm shower, before you change into some comfortable sweatpants and shirt. When you enter the living room, you see Minho doing his usual tasks—cleaning the kitchen while preparing some food.
Approaching him, he only notices you once you stand pretty close to him.
“Good morning, Min,” you say, while you reach for a glass from the upper cabinet. You fill it with the coldest tap water possible, before the icy liquid hits your throat.
All while Minho tries his best to not absolutely go insane at the sight of you. It’s so stupid that an innocent scene like this makes his cock stir inside his pants. But the way you throw your head back, wet hair from showering and the short bathrobe you're wearing doesn’t make anything exactly easier for him. In the end, he seems to be a man. A man that is in love with his best friend’s wife.
Why you though? It’s already too much that he has a crush at all but his heart couldn’t have made a worse choice. This is hopeless. Absolutely hopeless.
On top of that, he hasn’t had sex with anyone since the two of you filmed that video for Jisung. Although there’s utmost tension between the both of you—even you sense it all the time—nothing physical has happened since your last encounter. In general and this counts for you, too. But you’ve also been too much in your head these past weeks to even think about something intimate.
“Are you ready for tonight?” Minho asks, breaking the silence.
This evening, you will finally visit the casino that has been on your list of possible evidence—and appearing in your dreams—this whole time. You’ve planned it all, trying to find a guy that must be hiding there from time to time who—according to Minho’s police contact Haechan—might be connected to the C.Drugs store.
You nod, thinking about the pretty dress you will wear tonight. You haven’t dressed up that much these past days, too depressed to even change your clothes at all. Of course, you’re also excited to hopefully get a little closer to solving this case. It’s truly ironic that Levanter is doing detectives’ work when you’re all actually criminals. But that happens when you live in a corrupt system like this city.
Unfortunately—not surprising given the nightmare you had—you feel a little scared that your dream might turn into reality this evening. You know you can count on Minho and the other guys but the slightest chance that he could be behind this whole disaster doesn’t seem to let you go.
“Come on, kitten. What’s going on in that distracted head of yours?”
Minho is carrying that mischievous smirk again, who would have thought. It’s annoying how he can tell when you’re deep in your thoughts but then again you don’t bother hiding it anymore.
“We will go there together,” you start, “can you promise me that?”
He scrunches his eyes, eyebrows furrowed, confused why you’d ask him such a question. Do you actually believe whatever the hell happened in your dream? If you can’t trust him and therefore can’t be a team, this won’t work out, that he is sure of. Everything has to be perfect. In addition, Minho does feel a little offended that you would suspect him to be the owner of C.Drugs. Well, you didn’t say that but your gaze tells him all he needs to know.
“Do you think I’d betray you? Do you think I am behind that website?”
His jaw clenches, as he gets a little closer. The palm of his hands get placed on the countertop behind you, kind of cageing you between his body and the furniture. You gulp, absolutely confused why he decides to behave like this now. It was just a question to ease your anxiety, nothing more.
Right?
“N-No, but please understand that my mind is a mess, I am a mess and I can’t think properly anymore,” you explain, voice getting a little louder. “Just for the sake of whatever is left of my sanity.”
Minho’s face suddenly softens, a whole new person standing in front of you. His hand travels up to your head instead, two fingers placed under your chin, as he makes you look up at him.
“I’m sorry for my reaction. We’ll go there together, Y/N,” he says. “No matter what happened in your dreams, I wouldn’t let you go there on your own anyway. These men… can be a lot. Also, Hyunjin and Seungmin will be with us, too.”
He gives you a smile, tilting his head.
“Okay…”
Minho gets a bit closer, face to face with you now, “Do you trust me?”
“Yes,” you immediately blurt out. Because you do. No matter what your dreams say, you trust him that he will protect you no matter how this story ends. After all, he was the one who saved you from that fight with Chan on your wedding day.
And it’s not like you have any other choice… You gave up your old life for Jisung and this gang life.
“Good,” he says, a stern expression on his face.
Minho lets go of you again, giving you some space as he steps aside. The two of you agree to slowly get ready for the night. So, you go back to your bedroom, entering the closet a little while later. The short black dress will be perfectly fitting for tonight’s mission. After all, you may have to seduce some men that are inside the casino as well in order to get some information from them.
It’s nice to dress up and wear makeup, getting ready even helps you calm down a little. You try to ignore the beating heart in your chest. If everything goes well today, you’re gonna catch the guy who is behind C.Drugs. Minho bribed his police contact Haechan again who gave him the information to look for a guy who goes by the name Dzharo and tends to spend his Thursday nights at the local casino.
You’ve never noticed him there before. But then again, you rarely go there and rather on weekends, only paying attention to Minho or Jisung.
Jisung… right. Not a night has gone by without you crying yourself to sleep. You dearly hope you can get the guy and help prove your husband’s innocence.
But you also know this won’t be enough. Catching the bad guy to get evidence is just there for you to keep your husband out of jail. Once he’s fled. An actual mission of prison break is inevitable at this point. The whole system is just too corrupt that you’d be naive to believe you’d get Jisung back solely by speaking the truth.
You have agreed to pretend that Minho and you are a couple tonight at the casino. Just to keep you safe and all. Of course it’s just that—it’s definitely not as if this is messing with Minho’s head big times. Not at all.
That might be a lie. Well, at least Minho believes it might be an excuse for whenever he catches himself staring at you for a second too long.
Or a minute.
Nevertheless, considering the mission you have to accomplish tonight, this is definitely the best strategy. It’ll keep you safe by his side and make it a lot easier to focus on the important task.
When you enter the kitchen again Minho is sitting on the couch, smoking a cigarette. You’d complain that he’s spreading the nicotine through the apartment but it was only a couple of weeks ago when you poisoned the whole living room with the smell of weed.
You join Jisung’s best friend—or your partner for tonight—on the sofa, when you observe his eyes trailing your form. His mouth turns into a smirk, eyes becoming a few shades darker and it leaves a damp patch inside your underwear, which makes this all even more embarrassing. God, Y/N, get it together. It’s only been a few weeks that you had sex because—can I remind you—your husband is in prison.
It’s in this moment, that you realise Minho’s gaze has come to a halt and is fixated on your left hand right now. To be more precise—he’s focusing on one of your fingers that has a very special ring with a jade stone attached to it wrapped around it.
“You should… should take off the ring. It’d be weird and suspicious since I don’t wear one,” Minho suggests.
He’s right, yeah. But aren’t you playing his partner after all?
“We can adjust that,” you grin.
Minho looks at you confused. You literally only have to take off the accessory. That’s all. This shouldn’t take more than two seconds. “What do you mean?”
“Well, either I take my ring off or you wear the other one,” you propose.
“Jisung has the other one,” Minho clarifies.
You shrug your shoulders, pointing at one of the jewellery boxes that are presented inside the showcase, “Sure, but he has a bunch of rings that look similar anyway.”
It’s oh so dumb considering his sanity. But perhaps it makes more sense. He seriously doesn’t want anything to happen to you and these guys apparently take a woman and her boundaries more seriously if she’s got a man by her side.
“What would you prefer?”
You get up, not answering yet, as you take long strides to a dark box. Opening it, you reach inside and grab a ring that looks similar enough to yours. Han Jisung and his green gemstones is a never ending love story itself.
Getting back to Minho, you plop down on the couch next to him. Your hand gets wrapped around his wrist, before you put the ring on his finger.
“I’d prefer if you wore a ring, too,” you confess with the softest smile the man in front of you has ever witnessed.
“O-Okay. Whatever you say.”
Minho is so absolutely doomed.
💊
The air inside the casino is even worse than it was the last few times you’ve been here. Usually, you’re only visiting the venue on weekends when it’s filled with tourists and people who want to try out gambling for the first time—losing their hard earned money on a Friday night like every other.
But Thursdays seem to be reserved for a small circle of particular men only. The owners of the casino and whoever provides them what they need. You’re not surprised that a shady business like gambling is created by even shadier people. After all, they take advantage of people who didn’t get granted with luck in their lives.
And you’re here on a mission. Finding the guy that Haechan mentioned to Minho, telling your gang that a man named Dzharo is behind that website. All eyes are on your group, old men having their gazes glued to your curves and making you second guess if it was such a good idea to choose this outfit. When Minho sees the slightest discomfort on your face, he wraps his arm around your back, palm laying flat against your hip to pull you closer.
“It’s gonna be okay, yeah? Trust me,” he whispers into your ear, “we’re gonna play one round of some game and then we will search for him.”
You nod, letting Minho guide you to one of the tables. His gaze hovers around the room, scanning the casino for a certain guy. Unfortunately, Haechan only gave him a plain description of what he looks like—a buff man in his fifties, Southeastern European background, expensive clothing and usually wearing a golden cross necklace.
Minho’s hand is wandering upwards to the small of your back, guiding you through the stuffy room. Hyunjin and Seungmin are right behind you, scanning the room for a very particular person but also to get a clear overview of the situation you’ve put yourselves into. For the sake of Jisung. The gang’s leader. Your husband.
A man approaches your group, as you watch Minho’s eyes light up when he recognises a familiar face.
“Lee, so unusual to see you here on a Thursday night, huh?”
He lets go of you, leaving your exposed back a little cold but Hyunjin steps right in to stand next to you. Minho greets the other man and for once again you cannot tell what this all means. You just don’t seem to be able to read him. Ever. This guy is a walking mystery.
“You’ve got a cute little accessory with you, Lee,” the middle aged guy adds, his glance finding you before he shoots a wink your way.
But Minho’s jaw clenches—he immediately takes a few steps back, wrapping his arm around your waist again, showing off his territory—although you’re anything but that. However, tonight is an exception. It’s for a good cause, he keeps reminding himself. The ends justify the needs, right?
There’s nothing wrong with pretending to be your husband while he’s falling in love with you. Except for the aching sensation inside his hopeless little heart.
“My wife. Hands off,” he hisses towards the man.
The atmosphere suddenly shifts, all layers and curtains falling off, pretense leaving the room. The man’s facial expression changes, before he gets closer, paralysing Minho with his piercing gaze.
“Then let’s get straight to it. You lookin’ for someone?”
Your fake-husband chuckles, “Yeah. Dzharo is his name.”
A scoff from the other one follows. He reaches for the back pocket of his suit trousers, fishing out a pack of cigarettes. He opens it and picks one out, offering some to your group too. The guys take one each and so do you. Once a small flame erupts at the tip of your cigarette, you take a deep drag, welcoming the smoke inside your lungs.
“You’re searching for the owner? Oh, I’m sure he’d love to meet new people. He’s quite an extrovert,” the man says with a grin.
But Minho isn’t one to be provoked easily. He stands his ground, taking another puff. “Where can we find him?”
“Well, it ain’t that easy,” the other one explains. “You have to win a game against him first and then he might reveal himself.”
“What game?” Minho says, keeping a poker face.
“Russian Roulette. It’s Dzharo’s favourite game after all. We’re playing his own version, though.”
Oh, no. Where the hell have you gotten yourself into?
That’s how you find yourself around a big table a few minutes later, right on top of Minho, sitting in his lap. You’re surrounded by your other two gang members as well as a bunch of men who seem to attend the casino every Thursday, all of them speaking a Slavic language you can’t quite categorise.
The rules of the game are easy. Although this doesn’t make it any less dangerous. The man Minho talked to earlier explained that its base is similar to Durak, a card game in which you have to trump the other player’s cards with your own. It’s simple. Although this doesn’t make it any less terrifying.
Because whoever loses a round—the person that is the last one to have cards in their hands—has to follow the rules of Russian Roulette. Which probably explains itself.
Minho and you are playing the role of a fake married couple just fine. His hand is wrapped around your waist, palm flat against your stomach, as he keeps you in place. You feel like you’re in trance, the atmosphere intensifying whenever a round ends and the loser has to aim a gun straight at their head.
Of course—no big surprises—these men don’t take you seriously enough to let you participate on your own in the game. Their loss. Literally. So, you opted for supporting Minho from where you’re sitting on top of him while looking all pretty and making those guys believe they should keep underestimating you.
At some point, your breath hitches and oxygen gets stuck in your throat when Hyunjin loses a round and has to point the weapon to his skull. But luck is on his side, when he pulls the trigger and nothing happens. There are droplets of sweat on his forehead, you can see them right across from where he’s sitting.
The rounds continue, making you wonder if they even put a bullet inside the weapon or if it’s just gonna be reserved for whoever loses the last round. Another game ends, this time it’s Minho who ends up to be the only one with a few cards left in his hands. And you can swear you can feel his heartbeat crash against your back.
He reaches for the weapon, keeping it all cool, before he guides his lips to your ear.
“Baby, hold on tight, yeah? I promise nothing will happen. Seungmin replaced the gun with his own. The last one to lose will be the unlucky one,” your fake husband reassures you.
That at least takes a load off your mind—although it lets another realisation hit you. Someone will die. It’s not like you haven’t grasped that earlier but you have basically been in a state of trance since this game started.
“You trust me?” Minho whispers again and without being able to catch a glimpse of his face, you know he’s smirking.
“I do, Min.”
He readjusts his position before he brings the deadly weapon to the side of his head. Minho takes a deep breath before he pulls the trigger.
And nothing happens. Just a clicking sound echoing through the hall that has suddenly gone so quiet you can hear the thunderous pulse inside your body.
Minho places the gun right back on the table before some of those mysterious guys mix the cards again for the last round. Knowing that whoever loses now will never play this game again, lets the lump inside your throat grow bigger. You pray that it’s neither of you.
Your fake husband picks up the cards, assorting them by lowest to highest when three very specific cards fall into your vision. All the same colour—clubs—there is a queen, a king and an ace attached to Minho’s hands.
The game starts and you’re playing fine, until there are only two cards left.
“Choose a card for me, kitten.”
You chuckle, “The club’s ace.”
Minho places said card on the table and when it’s his turn again, he wins the game. Hyunjin is the second to get rid of all the numbers and pictures in his hand, before there is only the man Minho talked to earlier left and Seungmin.
His gaze finds those of the right hand man and you swear you know Minho is nodding, reassuring his younger friend. The cards become less and less. Until each of them have only two on their hands. Your heart is bursting out of your chest, the pulsating sound drowning out all the noises. You fear for Seungmin’s life, now knowing that whoever loses, will die. This is so insane, you don’t even have words to describe it.
Memories and scenes wash over you, rush through the sights of your inner eyes when you seem to grasp what you’ve gotten yourself into. This last half a year has been a fever dream but you finally realise now what kind of life you got in exchange for your old one.
You fully get it, when Seungmin finishes the game—luckily—and the mysterious man loses. He reaches for the gun, already sensing death on his tongue, when he looks straight into the faith he’s about to conquer. He aims the weapon right at his skull. The trigger gets pulled. A shot echoes through the room. Time stands still.
There’s blood. There’s blood everywhere. And Minho was too slow to cover your eyes but, still, the palms of his hands get in front of your eyes.
That man is dead. His life just ended right here because of a fucking stupid game. It catches you then—all of these men, including your own gang members—why on earth do they willingly put themselves in such situations?
Well, for the same reason they take the risk of getting into jail because of criminal adventures, too.
They have nothing left to lose. They don’t have anything to hold onto in their lives that makes it worth living. As depressing as it sounds. And you wonder if you caught a glimpse of that earlier in Seungmin’s eyes when he was close to losing and greeting death as well.
Minho’s hand is still blocking your vision, as someone probably takes care of the scene. You're shaking, but the man you’re on top of is stroking your back, his fingers going up and down your spine. “It’s okay, Y/N. You’re safe, okay? Nothing will ever happen to you, I promise.”
You shake your head no, reaching for the hand in your face and ripping it away. Turning around to face him, you scoff, “And what about Hyunjin? Seungmin? What about you?”
Minho lets out a sad chuckle, his eyes dropping down, staring into nothingness. He wants to say something, he needs to say something but he doesn’t manage to. On top of that, he gets interrupted in his ongoing thoughts when he notices someone move in the corner of his eyes.
The man who has been sitting next to Hyunjin gets up, taking off his leather jacket. It’s now that you realise you have totally forgotten about the mission you’re on—all because of this traumatising game.
The guy has a sharp jawline, he is probably in his late fifties, early sixties but the fact he’s basically smoked a whole package of cigarettes during the game might fool you here. He is wearing a white tank top, a golden cross necklace around his throat. You notice him staring at you or Minho—you can’t quite differentiate now.
“Careful, kitten,” your fake husband says, when he puts you back on your feet again. His hands stay on your waist for a little longer, before he places a soft kiss on top of your head and walks around you towards the man.
“You’re Dzharo, aren’t you?”
He chuckles, nodding, “I am.”
You notice Hyunjin and Seungmin approaching you, as they stop right behind you.
“You’re looking for my son, aren’t you?”
His son? Minho and all of you are confused—Haechan told you to look for this Dzharo guy. Now he’s here and he isn’t the one you should be searching for as it seems.
“Your son?” Seungmin questions.
The man grins. “Yeah. The one who is behind that little website that got your precious leader in jail, right?”
“We wanna talk to your son then. Where is he?” Hyunjin demands, searching around in the room for someone who looks like Dzharo.
“Bad that he ain’t here,” Dzharo says with a smirk on his face, “oh, but he told me to hand you these.”
He reaches for his leather jacket, pulling out a few objects from the pockets.
The three wooden dolls that he puts on the table all have different sizes although they have one thing in common—they look a little too similar to those you have already received.
You take a few steps towards them although Minho reaches out to you to pull you back, thinking it’s a trap. It might be a little stupid, yeah. But you can’t think straight anymore. You’ve lost the ability along the way of whatever mess your life has become.
You take a closer look, picking up the smallest of them. The doll has the red scarf again but this time her hair is orange, the same shade as the fur of a fox. She portrays a child that is holding a plushie of the exact animal in her hand.
When you guard your gaze towards the middle one, you notice that this doll has freckles on her face and an animal in her hands too—a chicken baby.
The last one makes your breath get stuck in your throat and you only now count two and two together. This plushie is no other than a wolf.
A fox, a chicken and a wolf.
These are all animals that you have seen that night in Chan’s headquarters. Felix, the college weed dealer, was wearing a chicken mask and the guy who aimed his gun at you when you were hiding in the living room was dressed as a fox.
What the fuck is this supposed to mean? Is Chan behind it, after all? You wouldn’t be suprised, to be honest. Or is it just someone trying to put the blame on your former best friend and his gang members?
Perhaps Minho himself?
You brush that thought off your mind. That would be too twisted, wouldn’t it?
On top of that, you keep wondering how these dolls will help you solve the case and if this weirdness will just keep going—if you will continue to receive more pieces of them, growing in size until they have the same height as you.
Dzharo has his gaze on you, before he speaks, “I have to admit that my son is a genius. All the hints he’s placed and you don’t even seem to notice the most obvious ones.”
“Most obvious ones? What’s that supposed to mean?” you hear Hyunjin ask.
“Have a look at that damn website again.”
Why is he telling you this? Is he trying to give you the truth and bring his son, who is potentially behind C.Drugs, in jail? Or is he just messing with you?
But if Dzharo’s son is the owner of that illegal online business, you have no clue who it could be. Chan wouldn’t be part of your suspects anymore since you know his parents. Sure, you don’t know Minho’s father but let’s be real—Dzharo and him obviously look nothing alike. Same counts for Jisung—not that you are suspecting your own husband but the aftermath of that nightmare is still harassing you in the back of your head.
“Thanks for the hints, Dzharo,” Minho says, before he walks towards you and reaches for your hand that isn’t holding the four dolls. “Let’s go home. We won’t get any further here.”
You feel comforted in his arms, when Minho guides you out of the venue. You’re still in trance but you’ve found peace with it—if you can call it that. It’s like you function on autopilot at this point, your feet walking by themselves and bringing you inside the cab that’s parking in front of the casino.
Ardian—your driver—brings you back to your apartments within minutes but everything is still a blur, feels so surreal if words can describe it. However, there is one thing you notice that you are sure of isn’t pure illusion. Minho’s hand is holding your own, his fingers intertwined with yours, as his gaze is fixated on your expressionless face.
A few minutes later, he helps you outside the vehicle and the two of you enter the flat you both have been sharing for the past… weeks? Months? What is time even?
“Here, Y/N. Drink this,” Minho’s voice enters your ears all of a sudden while he offers you a glass of water. The cold liquid hitting your throat brings you back to the present and eases your mind a little. You sink down on the couch and the glass on the table in front of you.
“Can I sit here?”
You look at your husband’s best friend, a little bewildered, “Yeah, sure. Why not?”
“I’m so sorry,” he blurts out, not quite helping with your confusion. But before you can ask, the man next to you continues. “For bringing you there. For making you see this, God, for making you so fucking scared, I–“
“Min, it’s okay. Please. I wanted to go there voluntarily.”
He nods, his gaze falling down to the sweaty palms of his hands that are placed in his lap. You don’t know why you forgive him so easily. After all, you were quite angry at him back at the casino. But is there any chance given? You are ten meters deep in shit already so what else is left to lose?
“But… still… I should have somehow protected you more,” Minho says with a low and broken voice.
“How are you supposed to protect me from the real world?”
“You know what I mean,” he replies.
You shift in your seat, still trying to process this night. However, you were the one who decided to become a part of this very dangerous life. You were the one to accept all those risks if it meant you could be with Jisung. Well…
“Yeah,” you say, “but you don’t seem to get that I would do anything to have Jisung back by my side. I would step over dead bodies to have him back—literally.”
Minho squeezes his eyes shut. Of course. That’s the next issue that’s been plaguing his mind for so long. You are Jisung’s wife after all even though playing pretend for a few hours felt nice. He wonders if he should take off the fake wedding ring but since you haven’t noticed that he’s still wearing it he decides against it. Just for now. Just to feel something again.
It was inevitable that he would fall for you. You carry a part of Jisung with you. Of course his heart would get weak at some point. He doesn’t want it to be this way because Minho for sure knows how wrong it is to have feelings for not only his best friend but also his best friend’s wife.
“Min?”
“Hm?”
“We promised to be there for each other and although we didn’t find whoever is responsible for Jisung being in jail, we got a little closer to the solution of this riddle. That’s what counts, okay?”
“How can you be so… chill about it?”
Minho chuckles, “I’m not chill. Not at all. I know I always seem as if nothing in this world could bother me. But it’s… different now. I don’t know why.”
I know why but I can’t tell you because unfortunately my stupid heart craves to have you around me at all times.
“I mean… I completely get it. Your best friend isn’t here, you have to spend every day with his annoying wife instead,” you joke.
This is basically the absolute opposite of why Minho is a lot more stressed than usual. Sure, Jisung not being here affects his mental health drastically, that is correct. But he could never find it bothering to have you here. At least not in the way you might expect.
“You’re not annoying,” he says back, not keeping any eye contact because he simply can’t.
You let out a loud laughter, throwing your head back while the palm of your hand lands on your thigh, showing how funny he is once again without even trying.
“Min… stop lying,” you giggle.
He sighs, not liking where this conversation is heading to but he also wants to be honest with you. At least he tries to and in most cases it does work. Except for one ugly secret he’s been keeping for some time now and he prays every day that you will forgive him for hiding it once you find out about the truth.
“You’re not annoying. I stand by it,” Minho emphasises. He takes a sip from his water, his eyes roaming around in the room.
You nod, “Wow, that feels like the highest compliment one can get from Lee Minho. Next thing is you confessing your undying love for me?”
He doesn’t say anything. And you don’t know how to interpret his behaviour right now. Perhaps, he needs some minutes to himself. Probably. So, you get up and disappear inside your bedroom to change into something more comfortable. Taking a glimpse at the time, you realise it’s some time during the early hours but it doesn’t surprise you. After all, you were inside that casino for quite some time and everything is still kind of a blur.
The satin fabric lays comfortably on your skin, hugging your curves. You enter the en-suite bathroom and take off your makeup next. A quick look in the mirror—now without all the layers covering your face—truly shows you how tired you are. Another deep breath. Another splash of water hitting your skin. And you get outside again and join Minho on the couch.
It takes everything inside the man to not collapse when he sees you. So utterly beautiful, absolutely pure and completely exposing yourself to him. Well, this sounds a little exaggerated but it feels like it. The pyjama you’re wearing is playing evil mind games with him. It looks stunning on you but also gives his eyes great access to your thighs and neck—some places of your body he wants to attach his lips to.
Minho feels like a moth to flame—you’re the light at the end of the tunnel that keeps him going until he realises that having you is an illusion he will never get a taste of. The idea of you sparks darkness instead.
“You okay, Min?”
Of course, you grasp it. You notice how he’s ogling you but it’s not that you mind. The two of you are aware of the attraction for one another. After all, any possible scene wouldn’t be the first time this has happened. Everything you know is that he made you feel so so good those two nights.
But there’s a difference. Both times you got close it was with the idea in mind that you are doing this to live out your husband’s fantasy but Jisung isn’t here and you don’t know when he will be back. However, he reassured you many times that it’s okay. That Minho and you should be there for one another and this also includes anything physical. 
That’s what it is, right? You cannot not sense the passion and anticipation that’s lingering in the air, ready to break free.
But there’s another thing when it comes to Minho’s thoughts. For him, it might not only be taking care of each other’s sexual needs. This time, he is on the verge of developing serious feelings for you. Although he doesn’t want to and he also knows he shouldn’t.
“You’re gonna do something about the tension or just stare at me the entire night?”
Minho’s breath gets stuck in his throat when he listens to your sweet voice, words glazed with a dark desire.
There isn't a lot of talking needed. Never when it comes to Minho and you. It’s like you communicate on a whole new level, a connection you have never felt with anyone else. It’s insane. And it’s dragging you closer to him. Physically and metaphorically. The distance between you shrinks, when you scoot a little closer, keeping your gaze on his facial expression that turns into something new—pure longing, impatience, certainty.
“Are you… are you sure you want this, Y/N?”
You remind yourself that this is just to get whatever tension off, to calm you down, to stop you worrying about all the mess inside and outside of your head. Right. That’s it. Exactly. Nothing more.
Maybe it’s in fact more than just what you’re trying to convince yourself of. But you’re not ready yet to face that road.
“I do… I really do.”
Minho’s eyes darken, as he’s clicking his tongue. His hands reach under your thighs, pulling you closer until he’s hovering you into his lap. A view he’s missed so much. He would be lying if he said he hasn’t watched the video you two made a million times since then. You looked ethereal that night and while he truly turned it into a visual memory by filming you for the sole reason of creating a present for his best friend, all this developed into more since then. Minho knows his feelings aren’t reciprocated but it doesn’t matter. Not tonight.
“Do you want this, Min?”
“Yes. I do,” he immediately blurts out.
A smile makes it up to your face, before you guide your lips to his neck. Sweet kisses erupt on his skin, making him crave even more. Minho was hoping for you to kiss him on the mouth but at this point he’d let you do whatever you want.
He’s never been like this with anyone. Usually, Minho takes the lead by being the dominant role, except for when it comes to intimacy with Jisung and a third party. And certainly he’s never craved someone to kiss him passionately with all their heart. However, Minho knows that this won’t happen and in the back of his mind he knows that this is the right way. You have to stay loyal to Jisung. And a kiss just feels too… real.
But he considers throwing those principles out the window, when your sinful lips wander south, while you simultaneously open each of the buttons of his shirt, revealing his tattooed skin. You take in his beauty, your hands lying flat on his chest, before you give him a smirk and scoot away. Minho watches you land on your knees next, now between him and the couch table a meter away from you. The tent in his trousers is painfully obvious, his neglected cock begging to be let free and taken care of by no one else than you.
Minho has become so shy, it’s adorable. You’ve never seen him like this, silently asking for you to keep going and make him feel good. This is exactly what you do, when the palms of your hands start roaming all over his covered thighs, thinking back to the time when you were riding one of them. You want to give something back to Minho this time—for him being such a good friend, for being there for you, for making you feel less lonely these past weeks. 
Your fingers travel upwards, until they are placed on his crotch, as you slowly start stroking him through the thick material. Keeping eye contact at all times, you observe how Minho is guardedly losing his last remaining piece of sanity, giving in to what’s awaiting him. You’re fast when you bring your hands to the hem of his pants, starting to fumble with his belt until you get it off of him. He slides the fabric down a second later, all in one go with his boxers, not caring how pathetic he might look right now.
Minho notices your tongue graze over your lips, as your mouth turns into a smirk and your eyes start sparkling. Suddenly, your hand seizes around the base of his dick while you get closer to him. The next thing he senses is a long stripe along his shaft, making him throw his head back in pleasure, as satisfaction takes over him. And when Minho watches you being on your knees for him, so eager to please him, it flips a switch inside of him—quite literally—as confidence and dominance is building up inside him again.
“Go on, make me feel good,” he whispers with a husky voice.
That’s all you need to hear and a second later he feels your pretty lips wrapped around his stiff length while your head starts bobbing up and down, while gagging sounds are echoing through the living room.
Fuck—how on earth is he supposed to continue living his life normally after this? He dearly hopes this isn’t a one time thing. You’re too precious to him to be left unsatisfied.
“Fuck—that mouth of yours is made of pure sin,” Minho lets out in between whimpers and moans, the prettiest melody your ears have witnessed in a long time.
You can’t help but chuckle and continue working your mouth around his cock, feeling him twitch inside your warmth. He is gripping the cushion of the sofa next, before one of his hands finds your head, guiding you the way he likes.
Minho gets closer and closer to his sweet high. He can basically taste the relief on his tongue. Until you abruptly stop.
You let go of his cock with a loud ‘plop’ before you look at him with a mischievous smile.
But Minho is too startled to speak. Especially, when you get back up and reach underneath your dress. He watches your panties drop down to the floor next, while you keep the rest of your clothes on. A second later, you’re straddling his thighs and reaching for his length again with your hand.
“Jisung was right,” you say when you lean closer to him and whisper right into his ear.
“With… with w-what?”
Minho is absolutely losing his mind because of your teasing. His hands are gripping your hips, fingers digging into the soft flesh while you are brushing his tip over your leaking entrance. The anticipation is killing him and it earns you a slap on your ass, when you continue playing this little game.
“That you’re a good boy.”
You sink down on his cock in almost one go, taking as much as you can fit inside of you and making Minho’s breath get stuck in his throat. 
“Oh fuck–“ he lets out and you swear you can see a hint of blush on his cheeks, probably caused by your words.
You soon find a good rhythm when you start sinking up and down on him, your arms thrown around his neck. What adds to it is the sight of Minho himself—how desperate and lost he is in the pleasure you are providing him, pathetically trying not to cum yet. But that’s absolutely hard—literally—when you are so good at this, your wet walls squeezing his throbbing cock, begging to milk him empty.
The two of you forget about time and anything that has ever bothered you these past weeks, completely addicted to the current feeling that is taking over your bodies and souls. Skin is slapping against skin, whenever your ass crashes down onto his thighs,  smacking sounds filling the room. You are getting closer, too, tightening around Minho whenever he lets out another one of those sweet and helpless noises.
“Fuck– I’m gonna cum, Min,” you warn him, right before he feels you reach your climax.
Your pretty moans make it to his ears as he guides you through your orgasm, his hands still attached to your hips. But you keep going, destined to bring him to the verge as well. When you feel him twitch yet another time inside of you, you pull him out of your wet hole and stroke him to completion. Hot white spurts of cum collide with your stomach, painting your skin, while Minho reaches heaven.
He places his hand on yours once his cock gets sensitive and turns soft again, as his eyes find your own. The smile all over his face is unbelievable. And it lets a bubbly feeling occur inside your stomach that you should not have about your husband’s best friend.
💊
“They expanded the opening hours,” Minho says, when he sees you walk into the living room.
He’s already prepared the Saturday night dinner, a tradition you have been holding onto. At the beginning of it, he made you write down a whole list of your favourite dishes from every cuisine and has been preparing the meals ever since then. It’s like he’s made it his duty to feed you and take care of you.
“Oh, really?”
The scent lingering in the air is entering your nostrils, magically pushing you towards the kitchen where Minho is currently located. You approach him, taking a look at the delicious food. He chuckles when he sees the excitement in your eyes. It’s been some rough weeks ever since Jisung has been in prison and ever since you went to that casino roughly fourteen days ago. But Minho has been here for you, not leaving your side in order to protect you.
“Yeah, there was a letter in the mailbox from Jisung,” Minho says, stirring the soup with a wooden spoon.
He guides it towards your mouth next, before you blow cold air at it and taste some of the dish. You hum in enthusiasm, before you give him back the spoon. Minho snickers when he sees your eyes sparkling and places a soft kiss on your forehead.
Nothing new.
What are Minho and you?
The lines are blurry. That’s the most accurate you can call it.
He’s been here for you, taking good care of you both mentally and also physically since that night after the casino two weeks ago. It’s funny that Minho used to always call Jisung and you rabbits, when he’s no different when it comes to your body. You drive him insane, make him shut off all of his synapses when your mouth or your pretty pussy is wrapped around his hard cock.
But that’s not part of the issue and has never been. If any Jisung has been encouraging this specifically—perhaps for a selfish reason but you don’t mind. However, what’s becoming a little problematic is how domestic the relationship with Minho has become. Because that is definitely something your husband will not tolerate and what your heart doesn’t seem to be able to handle. You push those thoughts aside, constantly, still not ready yet to face the consequences of your pathetic actions.
“That’s great,” you say with a cough, trying to focus on the presence again.
“Although we won’t need to worry about that anymore,” Minho says with a wink.
What on earth is that supposed to mean? Your heart suddenly starts beating faster, imitating the speed of light, until your husband’s best friend catches your confusion.
“Because we’re gonna rescue Jisung tomorrow, is what I mean,” he explains.
Ah, right. The plan. How could you forget about that? Well, nothing new that you seem to have the memory skills of a goldfish.
“The trial, right?”
Jisung has been invited to yet another trial because he’s become a witness in so many drug related cases. Apparently, the police were able to detect most people who bought stuff from C.Drugs and therefore they are searching for clues by bothering your husband.
Levanter has everything planned out. When Jisung is gonna be brought to court in another district of Seoul that is a bit further away from where the prison is located, your gang members will attack the vehicle and rescue him. Yes, it sounds a little like straight out of a bad crime thriller but what else are you supposed to do?
You’re still not that much further with your investigations on who is actually behind that damn website. Dzharo just confused you further with the weird shit he said and the dolls he gave you—although you still believe they might somehow be connected to Wolfgang. 
But that’s all you have for now. Jisung being dragged to court offers you new opportunities although you feel bad for him that he has to attend those.
“I still don’t get why they are putting those… customers in jail,” you add.
Minho nods, “Yeah, it’s fair if we get caught. It’s cruel what we do but they shouldn’t blame these poor souls. Addicts should get professional help and not be put in prison.”
“Absolutely right,” you agree.
“But then again… if Jisung hadn’t been a stoner in high school we probably wouldn’t have ever bonded. As sad as it is.”
This isn’t any news for you and you aren’t surprised that this is how they must have come in contact first. You don’t judge your husband, you never would. Especially not for his dangerous coping mechanisms he must have used during his teenage years when growing up in an abusive household.
On the other hand, you don’t know anything private about Minho. Neither much about his history with Jisung nor how he became the man he is today. He’s mysterious. Cold. Reserved. These past weeks you’ve shared a lot with him but, well, let’s be real, you overshare your life with anyone you meet, unable to ever shut up.
“He’s never told me how you met,” you blurt out after dinner since the question has been harassing your mind for nearly an hour now. Possibly, you can encourage Minho to tell you more about himself for once.
“Who?”
“Jisung,” you say. “He’s never explained how you became best friends.”
He leans back on the couch, taking a sip from his drink. He chuckles, thinking back to that time. More than ten years ago, when a shy Jisung approached him after he heard Minho might sell weed and other drugs at school. Minho never ended up giving anything to Jisung, already back then realising that his soon-to-be best friend wasn’t in the right state of mind to drown his issues in such deadly addictive substances. 
“Well, we met in high school and became pretty close,” he starts.
When Jisung almost took the wrong turn, nearly driving right into addiction, Minho was there to rescue him. Not only from his drug problems but also everything else that was harassing him at that time.
“That’s nice,” you say with a smile. “You’ve got an insane bond that most people would die for. Don’t get me wrong, Gahyeon is someone who I can count on, who’d definitely hide a dead body with me”—you realise this might not seem that extravagant given you are speaking to a gang member—“but Jisung and you… this is so special. Which is why I wondered how you got that close.”
You still wonder if there is more behind it. Minho once mentioned that he has or had a crush on your husband—you don’t know if it’s still the case—and you have no idea if Jisung reciprocates those feelings. They had gotten close physically too which adds to the questions roaming around in your head. Not that you would care about any of this. You’d be happy if Minho was able to give Jisung the same love you have for your partner. And vice versa. There’s nothing more beautiful than being loved by Han Jisung.
“A lot happened,” Minho continues, “but I can’t guarantee that it won’t be ugly and depressing.”
“That’s okay. I can handle a lot. Mostly from first hand experience,” you reply half-jokingly.
Minho grins, making the situation a little less serious but in a good way. “Alright. But you’ve been warned, kitten.”
That dumb name. That stupid, dumb name. That also makes your knees go weak. He’s used it more often since that night you went to the casino.
“My parents died when I was thirteen years old,” he begins, off to a rough start.
Oh, God. That’s one way to make you sober up. Fuck. Your heart breaks when you grasp those words. You’re no therapist but this might explain a lot.
“Min… I’m so sorry, I–“
“Don’t apologise but thank you,” he interrupts you. “It was one summer day near the beach. Some enemy of my father hired a hit man and killed both of them when we were near the sea. Which is also why I have aquaphobia by the way.”
He talks about it so fast, no details, like ripping off a band-aid. Perhaps, that’s a coping mechanism that he’s learnt over the years to survive.
“Our neighbour found me and took me in,” Minho explains, his facial features softening and a smile making it to his mouth. “Xhevahirë was a kind but strict woman. She moved to Seoul twenty years before that incident with my parents… she was from Kosovo and… yeah.”
Ah, the connection makes sense now.
“I wasn’t an easy teenager, to say the least. But she was like a second mother, you know? I knew I could always count on her and she made me the man I am today. Despite all the shit I did,” Minho chuckles.
You reach for one of his hands and he hesitates first but welcomes your gentle touch. Your thumb is grazing over his fingers, squeezing them softly. Minho feels safe with you. You give him some type of comfort that he hasn’t experienced that often in his life.
“She had never had kids of her own. Her husband died when they were still pretty young and she never married again.”
You close your eyes. That’s one disaster after another. And the fact that Minho speaks in past tense about Xhevahirë lets you already expect the worst.
“When Jisung and I met, his family situation was already at its worst and one day, after school, we went home to my place and Xhevahirë offered to basically adopt him too. When she… w-when she saw how neglected Jisung looked, it broke her heart.”
Jisung has opened up a lot to you during your college days. Luckily, he’s never had an issue with talking about his feelings to you. Except for the romantic ones he has already had back then.
“That’s so kind of her, seriously,” you say.
“Yeah, it was. We spent summers in Kosovo, visiting her relatives. After graduating from college, I moved there again… rather spontaneously… because she was in a c-critical condition—health wise.”
“Oh…” is all you let out.
“Yeah… her brother got in a fight with some rival gang member and she got shot. The doctors tried everything but it wasn’t enough. It felt like I found a new mum and lost her again. Xhevahirë had had cancer for some years on top of that. Which is the reason I stayed at her place during my college days whereas Jisung moved into an apartment with you and Chan.” He takes another deep breath. “After her death, I stayed in Kosovo, helped her family and dropped out of college. You know, to thank them for what Xhevahirë did. I became a part of the… criminal stuff they do rather quickly. And then Jisung joined me a year later and we moved to Tirana, Albania.”
“I’m so sorry you had to go through all of this, Min. But I’m glad you had good people surrounding you,” you tell him.
“I told you to not apologise, hm?”
“Sorry,” you say, instantly realising the irony of the situation but at least it makes Minho love for two full seconds. “Thank you for telling me all this, though.”
Your gaze suddenly shoots towards the door, when you hear the bell ring.
“Did you order something? You made so much food…”
Minho doesn’t give your words any intention, while he gets up from his seat and walks towards the source of the noise. He opens the door, already knowing who it might be. For fuck’s sake. Minho told him to get here a little later when you’re asleep. This isn’t how he planned all this.
Still, he lets the man inside, dearly hoping that you might dissolve or teleport yourself into the living room or anywhere else so you can’t see who the guest is.
The curly haired gets closer, pulling Minho into a lazy hug.
“Lino. Sorry I’m here early. But I’ve got great news. I connected the dots,” he says, taking off his shoes.
“CB97. I’m glad to hear that,” Minho says with a chuckle, “Share them with me, partner.”
When he turns around again, your husband’s best friend notices the confusion and shock that is decorating not only your face but your whole body. He approaches you, giving you a soft smile.
“Baby, will you wait here in the living room for me? We will be back in a few minutes,” he promises and all you can do—because you’re absolutely perplexed—is to nod and do as you’re told.
He guides Chan to the office room, closing the door behind them. Your former best friend can’t hold back—he saw the way you looked at Minho and how he looked back at you. And that pet name. It felt oddly familiar to something he used to feel for you too. Apart from that, Chan thought you were married to Jisung despite him being in jail.
“You’re… are you guys having an affair?”
Minho chuckles, “It’s not an affair if her husband approves and encourages it.”
Of course, this only counts for the physical aspects but as long as he doesn’t talk about his feelings for you he believes they aren’t true. Fucking stupid, yes, but you’re driving him insane with your pure existence—the jokes you make, the smile you carry, the sound of your laugh. Everything about you is so adorable that Minho is exploring his inner warmer side of himself.
“You’re playing wicked games,” Chan tells him. “It is fucking obvious that you’re in love with her.”
Minho’s face falls.
“How do you know?”
“Know what?”
“That I’m in love with her,” he confesses, his jaw clenching.
“I used to be in that position once, too,” Chan says, tilting his head.
For some sick reason, jealousy takes over Minho although he isn’t in any position to be territorial of you. Particularly not when it comes to Chan of all people.
So, his impulsive nature takes over. “By the way—the video back then was her and me,” Minho says with a smirk.
“I jerked off to you?!”
Minho lets out a laugh, watching the confused and slightly disgusted look on Chan’s face. That was funny.
“I usually hear this word combination with a much more enthusiastic voice,” Minho teases.
Chan rolls his eyes. “You wished.”
“Anyway, since you said you have finally solved the case I think we should share those news with her too, shouldn’t we?”
The older one looks at him dumbfounded. What in hell is going on? Why would Minho propose that?
“Y/N? Dude, no—I am very sure that she does not want to see me here or anywhere else ever again. She said that after all. Let’s talk somewhere–”
“Trust me,” Minho interrupts him, his fingers wrapping around the older one’s wrist, “it’s the right way.”
“You still haven’t told her?” Minho shakes his head no. “God, she’s gonna be pissed once she finds out. Although that might be tonight anyway.”
The younger one’s jaw clenches. “We agreed on something. We will not tell her about the blackmailing. It’s bad enough that I haven’t told her about the fact that we have been working together.”
“Alright. Whatever you say,” Chan sighs, giving in when he realises there’s no use in discussing anything with his stubborn newly found friend. If you can call them that.
Minho tilts his head, gesturing towards the door and when Chan nods, the both of them exit the office and join you in the living room. You’re still sitting on the couch, visibly uneasy and overwhelmed with the strange and sudden situation. Your body is stiff, eyebrows scrunched together and your gaze is hastily roaming around in the room.
“Min, what the fuck is he doing here?” you ask, almost yelling at him.
Minho gets closer and sinks down next to you on the sofa. His hand meets your back, slowly stroking it.
“We can explain, okay?”
“I want him to go,” you immediately reply.
Chan starts walking towards the door, obeying every word you say.
“Stay here,” Minho says.
“Min–“
“No. We’re gonna talk things out, okay?”
You look at him with wide eyes. “Who are you and what did you do to Lee Minho?”
“Funny, kitten,” he lets out a faux laugh. “Chan helped me a little with proving Jisung’s innocence.”
Your arms are crossed in front of your chest, as you lean back and unintentionally shove Minho’s hand away. “Oh, so he’s finally gonna tell the police that he made that website.”
“I didn’t–“
“He didn’t,” Minho defends your former best friend. “He’s not behind that.”
“And I should just believe him?”
“Would I be lying to you, kitten?”
You don’t know who’s speaking the truth anymore.
“W-We can explain and then I c-can just go and you don’t have to see me again,” Chan offers.
God. You seriously don’t want to be in a room with him. Especially not after that move he pulled at your wedding day. Chan only acts selfishly, always choosing the option that’s best for him. You already expect him to have some ulterior motives in this weird situation again.
“Cigarette?”
Minho opens a package and offers some to you, which you decline. To your surprise, Chan takes one out of the box and Minho lights it for him before he takes a deep drag.
“Look at the doctor smoking,” you mumble, not quite realising you’ve just said this out loud.
“I’m surprised too,” Minho admits. He’s always believed Chan is this picture perfect son-in-law that makes women in their late forties who post pictures of flowers on Facebook faint or fall to their knees at least. But then again, he is also involved in gang activities, so screw that idea.
“It’s a metaphor. You put the killing thing right between your teeth, but you don't give it the power to do its killing,” Chan says and you realise that—at least in this light—he looks a little like Augustus Waters.
“If you’re not planning to actually smoke that cigarette, then give it back to me,” Minho hisses, already reaching out for the burning object.
“He’s joking, it’s a dumb quote,” you explain and let out a giggle.
For a second Chan’s eyes and yours meet. It brings you back to all the positive memories the two of you share. Until a stinging pain spreads through your heart and hinders oxygen from getting into your lungs.
“Anyway,” Minho drags you out of the confusion, “what were you gonna share with us, Chan?”
The other one carries a mischievous smile on his lips, “Ah, right. I’ve found something out about who is most definitely behind the website.”
“That’s amazing,” Minho lets out, turning around to you, awaiting your cheerful reaction. But it never comes. You can’t trust Chan. Not after all he’s done. And some weird sensation in your stomach makes you wonder if you should trust Minho either.
“I’ve heard Felix talk on the phone in a slavic language before but I couldn’t identify which one it is,” the older one starts.
“Slavic you said?”
Chan nods, “I realised it is Bulgarian when I found out that he spent some years there. Or well, basically his whole childhood.”
“What?”
“Yeah. Felix was adopted by an Australian couple that for whatever reason moved to the coast of the Black Sea but… they didn’t really take care of him, so he got transferred to a different family in Sofia.”
A shiver runs down your spine when you notice the similarities between what Chan is telling you and Minho’s backstory. And by the way he’s looking at you, you realise he thinks the same. What a fucking coincidence, right?
“The father’s name is Petar Tudzharov, or Dzharo in short.”
Your heart stops beating. Of course, you idiots had been looking for a guy with a Slavic background and didn’t realise that the actual villain is closer than you think.
It was Felix after all.
Felix is the adoptive son of that guy from the casino?!
“They moved into his huge mansion in Varna, Bulgaria, that he bought from all the money he’s made with his clan’s activities as members of the Bulgarian mafia after he lost his job as a police officer in 1990,” Chan explains, sounding as if he is giving a presentation and reciting a Wikipedia article.
“No way!”
��Hm. But I still don’t know how we can get a connection to the C.Drugs thing. Why would Felix attack Jisung?”
“Hyunjin,” Minho blurts out. His expression is focused, as he is counting two and two together.
“What does he have to do with anything?” Chan asks
“Hyunjin and Felix,” you add. “They have some sort of background. He probably wanted to get back at Jinnie for whatever he did…”
That’s all you know after all. Hyunjin doesn’t talk much but when you were alone with him—back that night when he gave you those pretty tattoos—he told you that Felix and him used to date in college. You didn’t ask further though.
“You’re a genius, Y/N,” Minho says, his eyes widening.
“Huh?”
“Felix studied computer science as well. At the same university as Jisung and me but we’ve never interacted much with him, we were too introverted to be honest. But he was always jealous of Ji’s talent in coding. Count two and two together et voilà—you’ve got his villain origin story,” Minho rambles, his voice getting louder.
“But what’s his motive?” Chan questions.
“They used to be a couple during college days. But as far as I know, Hyunjin wasn’t ready to show his love publicly and when they decided to break up, Felix caught him with a new boyfriend a week later that he was very open about, bragging about him to the whole campus. Add some more toxic shit he doesn’t talk about, which I respect. But yeah, that's the short version.”
It all finally makes sense now. You can’t believe this bullshit took you so long to solve.
However, there’s still something on your mind. If Chan knew all that, why didn’t he tell you earlier? Or was that perhaps what he wanted to share with you on your wedding day?
You feel your stomach turn, guilt washing over your body although you know it shouldn’t. You didn’t do anything wrong.
“Chan?”
His gaze shoots towards you, “Yeah, Y/N?”
“How… how didn’t you realise he was behind that? Aren’t you the group’s leader?”
He chuckles, “Not anymore. Well, I actually wasn’t for that long. Before I joined Wolfgang, Changbin used to be the leader and he got back his title when… I started therapy and all.”
Oh. Well, that makes sense. Your heart breaks a little thinking back to all the things he has been through–
Stop it, Y/N. You don’t owe Chan anything. He should be grateful that you can be in a room with him.
Okay, slow down. After all, he’s given you the most important information in what you need to prove your husband’s innocence. He must be a little selfless for once, given the fact he doesn’t get anything out of this.
Oh, Y/N, if you only knew…
A vibrating sound awakens you from those ongoing thoughts in your head. You pick up your phone and open the message, as your breath gets stuck in your throat.
[Anonymous, 01:43]: You think you finally got me? Take a look at my website again 😉 — C. 🪆
You only realise how late it’s gotten, when you show the text to the two men who are with you.
“Why is Felix still signing those messages with a ‘C’?” you question.
“Probably to make you believe I am behind it all,” Chan suspects.
“Let’s have a look at the dumb website,” Minho says and you dearly hope it isn’t some type of trap.
He picks out his laptop, typing in the address. It looks a little different now although the content seems to be the same. However, layout and design changed a lot.
“That bastard stole the code Jisung made,” Minho says, letting out a hysterical laugh.
“Oh,” Chan says.
“No, that’s serious. You don’t do shit like that. Jisung has always said that coding for him is a form of art and as a computer scientist myself I agree,” the other man adds.
“Can we read the text again? Maybe we have missed something,” you suggest.
Minho adds, scrolling down to the bold letters that basically hit him in the face. He starts reading the text out loud that still seems to be the same from last time you checked way before Jisung went to jail.
“‘Craving some fun? Having a rough week? All you’ve ever wanted can be purchased here. No need to worry about personal data being tracked. General information about privacy can be found here. Buy whatever your heart desires! Inland shipping is free. No reselling allowed.’ That’s all.”
“Felix probably wants to confuse us,” Chan adds.
“Seems like we are stepping in the dark,” you say.
💊
“It all works out in the end, hm?” Minho asks with a smirk.
Chan is long gone—there was an emergency at the hospital—but his presence still lingers here. Suddenly, you feel overwhelmed again. Because of everything. Because of life.
But you try to push that aside. There are only a few hours left until you are gonna start the mission of helping your husband to escape prison. You have to be focused, you shouldn’t bother your own mind with unnecessary thoughts—particularly not about your former best friend.
“Yeah, right on time. Jisung will finally be back soon,” you say with excitement in your eyes.
Minho slowly nods, “Yeah, finally. It’s gonna be… the three of us.”
“Hm,” you say, a smile on your face that is desperately trying to cover up the confusion. It’s not like you fell in love with Minho over these weeks but there is a strong connection you both have that you can’t quite categorise yet.
“You know… if you wanna… like one last time before we rescue Jisung and everything gets back to normal, I’d be up to it,” Minho stammers and cringes at his own choice of words. Get it together, man. Is it wrong to ask you that? He makes it sound like you have been cheating on your husband which you definitely haven’t.
“What, you wanna stop fucking me when Jisung is back?” you tease, clicking your tongue.
No, but this will be the last time I will have you to myself without any guilty conscience, he wants to say but decides against it.
“You’re right. Well if that’s the case, we should probably head to bed and–“
“No, no, Min, wait. That’s not what I meant,” you rush, your fingers wrapping around his hands’ wrists.
He chuckles, his gaze darkening, before he takes the lead and grabs your lower arms instead. “You sure? You know you have to earn it, right?”
A few minutes later, you find yourself spread out on the sofa. You’ve thought about letting Minho have his way with you in the bedroom—after all, it’s much more comfortable—but you just can’t do it. It already feels like overstepping Jisung’s boundaries when his best friend and you fall asleep there whenever you have these nightmares. Although your husband would understand.
But there are two things reserved for Jisung—fucking you in your shared bed and coming inside of you.
However, every logical thought is leaving your mouth when Minho has you like this. On full display for him, begging for more. He has been eating you out for eternity, forcing you to one orgasm to the next one without any mercy. Your pretty little whimpers that slip out of your mouth are his favourite melody.
While his tongue is attached to your clit, his palm is slowly stroking his covered erection, ready for more.
“Min–“
“Yeah, baby?”
His low voice sends vibrations through your body, making your soul ache for more.
“Please– I need you,” you plead, looking at him with big awaiting eyes. This scene is so different to that night after the casino visit. But that’s what being intimate with Minho is about—versatility.
And all that menace does is chuckle, before he disconnects his lips from your pussy, getting back into an upright position.
“I just love it when you’re such a needy slut for me, kitten,” he whispers, before he pulls down his sweatpants, as you find him bare underneath. His grown erection springs free—the tip leaking with precum, letting your mouth water in anticipation. God. You need him. Right fucking now.
“Come on, I want you on all fours. Face down, ass up,” he demands and you follow suit like a puppy.
You turn around, getting in the position he loves to have you in most. Spreading your legs further, you give him access and a better look of your cunt. You hear Minho stroking his length, as he gets closer. You guide two of your fingers to your pussy, playing a bit with your clit while he brings his cock towards your entrance, the tip teasing your aching hole.
And then he pushes inside and your eyes roll to the back of your head. He’s filling you so deliciously, just like every night these past two weeks. You’ve become addicted to none other than Lee Minho and the way his hands roam over your body, how his kisses are erupting on your skin and how good he feels to be inside of you, driving you to the edge of ecstasy.
You surrender under his touch, when he leans forwards and one of his arms lands right beside your face. This way, his head is right next to yours and you can hear the panting sounds that leave his lips, as they enter your ear.
Although he is fucking you so good, when his cock is pounding into you at this merciless speed, your mind is still occupied by your husband and the fact you will hopefully have him back in less than twelve hours if everything goes according to plan. Then this mess will stop.
You’re not stupid—you’ve noticed the way Minho has been staring at you these past weeks or months you’ve been together. Whereas you know that your heart only belongs to Jisung, it has played with your mind a little. This loneliness. That drove you further towards your husband’s best friend while Jisung has been in prison.
You also suspect that Minho’s quite obvious feelings might be influenced by that strong connection he has with Jisung. Maybe it confuses him to have his best friend’s partner with him. But since the two of you silently agreed on not talking about whatever the hell is going on between you both, you have been pushing those thoughts aside.
And it doesn’t matter that much anyway, right?
All you want at this point is your husband in your arms and for him to be safe. You don’t care about anything else.
At least you think so, until Minho picks up his pace and grunts right into your ear, “Do you know why your desperate cunt can’t get enough of my cock, kitten?”
You moan. So fucking loud that for a second you fear the walls in this room are shaking.
“Because we’re on the same level, you and me. I’m the only one that can keep up with your smart ass, mentally,” he hisses, before he brings his hand between your legs. Minho starts rubbing your clit, while he keeps thrusting into you
“Did you find your bitch in me, huh?” you spit back and earn a slap on your ass. The stinging sensation spreads all over your skin and just pushes you closer to your relief.
“I know you’re close, Y/N. Come on, be a good slut for me. One last time.”
That’s exactly what you do, when you cum all over his cock, your vision going blind and pure ecstasy rushing through your veins. Minho doesn’t stop, chasing his own high.
“Fuck– I’m close. C-Can I cum inside?” he asks in the heat of the moment, not grasping that he’s never done this with you before.
And caused by the fact that your brain has turned into mush by now, you nod and encourage him, until he shoots his seeds into your cunt, filling you up to the brim.
Minho pulls out a little later, watching the mixture of your liquids trickle down. He rushes towards the bathroom and the next thing you know is that he is taking care of your fragile body, before he helps you into some fresh sweatpants and a new shirt. He places a soft kiss on your forehead and walks towards the bedroom to pick some  clothes for himself.
Once you’re alone, reality finally hits you.
Fuck. You shouldn’t have let Minho cum inside you. After all, Jisung said that this is specifically reserved for him. Sure, he said that in the heat of the moment but what if he actually meant it?
But your thoughts are disrupted, when you bring your gaze to Minho’s laptop that’s still open, the screen bright.
There is a notification of a message. By some person who goes by the pseudonym ‘CB97’. God. You are so done with all these code words.
Wait.
CB97?
Could that—no never. But what if? What if it in fact stands for Christopher Bang who was in fact born in 1997?
You take a quick glimpse towards the bedroom and find the door still closed. So, you cross all existing boundaries and open the mail.
‘Hi Lino, great working with you. The plan is all set, right? I will pick you up in the morning and we will intercept the prison vehicle and rescue him. This world needs justice. I’m glad I could provide you with the information you need about Yongbok. I hope you will have the courage too to tell her everything about us working together and what made you do it. — CB97.’
It’s obvious that the first paragraph is about Jisung. But—with her do they mean you? It was already confusing seeing Chan here but you blamed it on him perhaps feeling guilty for what he did.
However, this sounds as if they have been working together this whole time. Although Minho reassured you he hasn’t heard anything from your former best friend.
He lied to you.
Why would he do that?
You read the text again. ‘I hope you will have the courage too to tell her everything about us working together and what made you do it’.
And what made you do it.
Did Minho blackmail him?
The devil steps inside the living room then, finding you lurking through his mails.
“Min, what is this?”
“Huh?”
“This. CB97,” you say, voice dropping low.
“I–“
“Tell me. Does this have something to do with Chan?”
“Kitten–“
Before he can do anything, you scroll through their chat’s history. You expect Minho to hold you back from it but he just watches you, awaiting his destiny.
You stumble across the first message then.
‘Confess to me that you’re the owner of C.Drugs, Bang Chan, or I’ll send this video around—to everyone. Especially to your Y/N. She gave permission to film the video but I am sure she’d be disgusted knowing that you hacked into her private data. What a traitor and pervert you are.’
No.
Your stomach does a weird twist and nausea takes over you.
“You let him watch me get railed by you?! Did you only film us so you could send it to him?”
Your gaze shoots towards Minho who is sitting next to you, fear plastered all over his face.
“God, no! I didn’t send it,” he immediately starts defending himself. “He hacked into my computer and I wasn’t expecting him to click on it b-but– when the opportunity occured I had to seize it… we have been working together… well, I technically blackmailed him but still. Without this we wouldn’t have the proof that Jisung is innocent.”
He can’t be for real. He in fact would do anything to achieve his goals.
“Fuck you, Minho,” you spit back, already getting up from the sofa.
“Do you remember we agreed that the end justifies the means?”
You shake your head, throwing on your clothes and grabbing your purse.
“I’ll go to prison. Rescue my husband,” you announce.
Minho stands up, rushing towards you. “Kitten… wait… there’s still time until Jisung gets picked up and driven to court–“
“Shut the fuck up, Minho,” you yell while yanking the front door open.
“Where are you going?” He follows you, his hand wrapping around your wrist but you shove it away. “Y/N?!”
“Leave me the fuck alone,” is the last thing he hears before you disappear.
You enter the elevator, cringing a little when you feel Minho’s remaining cum inside of you trickle down into your fresh panties. But you try to ignore this mess until you reach where you are heading to.
Finally inside the cab to your destination, you grab out your prepaid cell phone. Impulsiveness takes over you, rationality has long left your body. You can’t think straight anymore—your emotions are doing that process for you.
That’s why you dial Chan’s number. Wanting to have his side of the story first before you storm inside the prison and do something unpremeditated. You hear the ringing sound, totally forgetting that he got called to work for an emergency and probably therefore can’t pick up.
But that doesn’t count for you right now. The world is against you. Chan is against you. Minho, too.
Your former best friend’s mailbox tells you to leave a message and in the heat of the moment that’s exactly what you do.
“Oh, yeah, of course the doctor is busy. Busy watching porn videos of me, huh?”
Your brain to mouth filter shuts off, not at all caring that the cab driver can listen to every raging word you spit. He looks a little shocked first but when you give him the same energy back that you let out on that fox-like looking guy on the street—that night you met Jisung again after three years—makes him bring his full focus on the street again.
“Why the fuck didn’t you tell me? This has been going on for months behind my back. I would have helped you but I guess you coward work better when Minho threatens you. I don’t even know who I’m more disappointed with,” you continue hissing into your phone.
The driver stops and lets you out of the vehicle and you rush inside the building, heavy pants making it into the speaker of your device.
“Anyway. Good thing at least you both could solve the case… but I’m outta here,” you add. With those last words, you shove the prepaid phone back into your pocket and enter the hall.
The security check is extraordinarily quick today. After all, the guards already know you by now. Once they tell you that everything is fine, you are led to the visitor’s room, waiting for your husband.
Five minutes pass.
Another ten minutes pass.
Before one of the guards from earlier approaches you.
“Mr Han will need a little more, I’m sorry. He didn’t expect you to visit him this early. Could you come with me in the meantime? We have a few questions,” they say with a friendly smile on their face.
“Questions?”
You are confused. What kind of questions are they supposed to have? Have they perhaps caught up on the plan your gang and you have prepared to help Jisung escape this hellsite?
Your heartbeat increases, panic all over your face, until they speak again, “Nothing serious. Nothing you need a lawyer for. It’s just about your husband’s well being considering his health background and since you are his spouse, we wanted to ask you first.”
Okay. It’s gonna be alright. Maybe something with his meds or some food preferences, who knows.
“Sure,” you say and follow them.
“The prison warden will be here soon. Please, take a seat until he is here.”
You do as you are told, sinking down on the chair in front of the huge wooden table. Your sweaty palms meet your jeans, hoping to make you calm down a little—without any success.
Taking a closer look at your surroundings, your eyes start roaming around in the room. It’s cold in here, a smell is levitating in the air that somehow reminds you of that night inside the Tricky House or perhaps that is just your confused mind messing with your or Chan getting under your skin.
But your breath hitches once more when a detail meets your sight.
There’s a matryoshka doll sitting on the office table, broken into two pieces, empty inside—just like you.
Taking a closer look, you realise that it’s the same model as all the tinier ones that got sent to you. Her hair is completely covered by the red scarf. Without having the other dolls with you, you can definitely tell she is the biggest one of them all, perhaps destined to have the other ones stacked inside of her, making her the last missing piece.
Then something else draws your full attention to it. Just like the other three ones you received by Dzharo at the casino two weeks ago, this one has a plushie attached to it—a 3D effect and it’s cut in half too—that is created in the same style as the fox, the chicken and the wolf.
You can’t quite tell at first what creature it is supposed to be. The pink colour makes you lean towards a pig but the ears definitely remind you of a rabbit. Fuck. That rings a bell but your pounding pulse is drowning out any thoughts you have right now.
Full on panic rushes over you. You close your eyes, open them again, close them once more. And when you bring your gaze somewhere else, the remaining puzzle piece you are supposed to find stands right in your way.
There is a name plate with the letters ‘Tudzharov, C.’ on it.
Tudzharov? Like Dzharo? And a fucking first name starting with C.? Does Felix have a different name after all? Is it actually Chan and he once again lied to you?
Unless you weren’t correct and Felix isn’t the guy you are looking for…
You get a little startled when the door swings open. The prison warden steps inside, a mischievous smirk all over his face when he sees you.
Oh, fuck no.
It’s him.
How the fuck haven’t you realised earlier? Of course it wasn’t Felix. At least not on his own.
The man takes a step towards you, chuckling to himself, before he speaks.
“I’ve been waiting for you, doll,” Changbin says.
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❤️ AUTHOR’S NOTE: thank youuu so much for reading!! I can't believe that the following chapter will actually be the last one... thank you for whoever is still joining me and those precious characters on this journey. words cannot describe how grateful i am. pleaaase make sure to share your thoughts on this chapter with me. i am so excited to know what you think about this big reveal and all!! thank you again, lots of love and thank you for being here :)
© j-0ne25 2023-2024 | copying, translating or stealing my work is prohibited
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daisyvisions · 3 months
Text
Unspoken Words (Pt. 1)
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‧⋆ ✧˚₊‧⋆. Pairing: best friend!Sangyeon x afab!reader x enemy!Hyunjae
‧⋆ ✧˚₊‧⋆. Summary: If someone were to tell you that you'd be in a fake relationship with the person you despise the most just to make your best friend jealous, you would've laughed in their face. But here you are... caught up in this exact situation.
‧⋆ ✧˚₊‧⋆. Word Count: 4.2K
‧⋆ ✧˚₊‧⋆. Warnings: (18+, minors DNI), fake dating, mutual pining, angst, jealousy, lots of suggestive themes such as: mention of a handjob and orgasm, groping, and fondling with breasts. Mentions of alcohol. Some cursing, lots of kissing and making out, eventual smut in part two. One use of the pet name “baby”. Implied sex and loss of virginity. Lots of time skipping. Let me know if I missed anything! Proofread twice.
‧⋆ ✧˚₊‧⋆. A/N: And just in the nick of time I’ve managed to write out my Secret Santa exchange gift. This one’s for you baby girl @winterchimez / @midnightfantasiez. You nearly sniffed out that it was me writing for you so I had to deviate and lie to you for a moment so sorry about that huhu anyway! A true blessing that you happen to be my recipient because we both love sangmil. A two-part mini series because I just love to keep you on your toes 😈 Hope you enjoy this gift! Thank you so much for your friendship and all the fun moments shared! Special shoutout to @momhwa-agenda / @aimeecarreros for being my accomplice hehe. Finally a sangmil fic has made its debut on the blog!
‧⋆ ✧˚₊‧⋆. Network: @deoboyznet
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You never should’ve gone to this stupid spring dance.
The thought in your mind repeating like a broken record as you try to hug yourself from the cold air outside the gymnasium. Tears running down your face as you stare off into the ground trying not to remember the reason why you suddenly ran out of the venue to begin with.
It wasn’t always like this. You were once very content with how things were going on in your life.
With the semester almost ending and all your mid-term grades just enough to pass, you couldn’t wait to celebrate surviving your last year of college with this one magical night. Especially with your best friend Sangyeon by your side.
Right… best friend.
The same best friend that had been ignoring you for the last two months or so (not that you were counting of course). Your mind races as you try to figure out for the nth time what even started this whole issue between you two.
All you could think back to was the beginning of his odd behavior, which started the week after your birthday. At first you thought Sangyeon was just busy with extracurriculars, which was often the case since he was part of numerous clubs and volunteer work.
But then things started to feel off as soon as he would ignore your calls, take too long to reply to texts, hearing from other friends he was just at home when he told you he was “fully booked” to hang out. It was like he was trying to come up with every excuse in the book just to not see your face.
Was he trying to hide something from you perhaps? That idea immediately disappeared as soon as you accidentally overheard his conversation with Haknyeon that one time you were all hanging out at Eric’s apartment.
“What?! You’re not gonna ask her to the spring dance?” You hear Haknyeon’s surprised tone.
“Of course not.” Sangyeon scoffs. “Why would I want to bring her? We’re just friends after all.”
You felt a sudden pang in your heart. Tears threatening to fall down as Sangyeon’s words bore deep holes within your soul. After everything you’ve been through together, this is how he thinks of you?
It shouldn’t have been that deep honestly, but with him ignoring you for the past couple of weeks and remembering the promise you made with each other to go together to the spring dance? It really fucking hurt you. Especially when you and Sangyeon had been by each other’s side since you first met three years ago at your freshman orientation. Instantly hitting it off like two peas in a pod and the rest was history.
Somewhere down the line, you knew you had some sort of feelings for him. Who wouldn’t?
With a smile that can cure any bad feeling you had, how he always took care of you first, the lingering hugs before you had to part ways at the end of the day, the way he would remember even the most insignificant details of a story you were rambling about, and made sure to always message you good night and good morning… He was the dream guy for you.
And even if you had moments wherein you thought he might’ve felt the same way, you didn’t want to sacrifice the strong bond you had with him over a stupid little crush. You just settled with the idea of just staying in the friend zone and not dare to cross any lines with him. Burying any what could’ves and everything else in-between.
Maybe that’s why Sangyeon distancing himself from you hurt more than it should’ve honestly.
So when you were seated at your table during the dance and saw Sangyeon entering the room with his date wrapping her arm around his, you felt massive sting in your chest.
That should’ve been you. It should've been you spending this night with him instead of whoever was currently by his side.
You thought you could go through the night just by avoiding your gaze their table, but the way Sangyeon smiled at his date and at everyone else like nothing was wrong, but his face slightly faltering as he quickly glanced your way, you just had to get out of there before things went downhill.
Your teeth were chattering from the cold air breezing against your exposed skin, nose sniffling and hands wiping whatever tears were leaving marks on your face. Suddenly, a pair of shoes enter your line of vision while your eyes were still glued to the ground.
“You shouldn’t be out here, it’s freezing.” The familiar voice tells you.
As soon as you look up, you find Hyunjae staring down at you. One of his eyebrows slightly raised as he wonders what has gotten you into this depressed state on a special night like this.
“Laugh it up Hyunjae, isn’t this what you’ve always wanted? To see me cry?” You look up at him for a moment with your tear-stained face before looking back down at your feet.
Before you could even continue feeling sorry for yourself, Hyunjae sighs and squats down, his face now at the same level as yours. You feel his fingers lift your chin and gently tap the tears away from your cheeks with his handkerchief. Your eyes widen as he leans in closer, making sure not to ruin your makeup in the process.
“W-what are you doing?” you stutter.
“Pretty girls like you shouldn’t be crying.” He nonchalantly replies.
You’re too stunned to speak at his comment. As far as you know, Hyunjae has been nothing but a pain in your ass ever since he accidentally bumped into you in the hallway causing your diorama to break into tiny pieces as it fell to the ground.
Since then, you wrote him off as your sworn enemy. Always finding ways to annoy the hell out of you and get you to react to his antics, making side comments to one another, and his constant teasing that made you want to rip your hair off.
So no, never in your wildest dreams would you hear such a comment coming out of Hyunjae’s mouth.
“Hello?” Hyunjae waves his hand in front of you.
“What?” You shook your head as you were too distracted from hearing the question he had asked you.
“I said, do you wanna get out of here or what?” He sighs as he lends his hand out for you to grab. You hesitate at first. In any normal situation, you would never even let Hyunjae get as close as he did just now, let alone go somewhere with him.
But what the hell… Anywhere is better than here.
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“So… who’s the lucky guy that has you bawling your eyes out? It’s obviously not me.” Hyunjae smirks. You had found yourself seated by the bar, eating french fries as you waited for your drinks to arrive.
“It’s uh- It’s a little complicated.” You try to avoid his eyes.
“Trouble in paradise?” Hyunjae pops a fry into his mouth waiting for your answer. Your eyes widen at his suggestion, knowing who he was referring to.
“What? No! I mean- We were never together if that’s what you’re thinking.” You sigh before carefully explaining to him the whole situation you were currently in with Sangyeon. Hyunjae intently looks into your eyes as you tell your side of the story.
“Huh…” Hyunjae takes a sip of his beer.
“That’s it? That’s all you have to say?” You look at him as he drinks, trying to not to dwell too much at the way his neck looks flexed under the dim light.
“You’re really impatient you know that?” He chuckles before taking another sip. “I was about to tell you an idea I just thought of.”
“Yeah? Let’s hear it then.” You take a sip of your cocktail this time.
“What if you make him jealous? Like really jealous.” Hyunjae suggests.
“Pass. First of all, I don’t think he likes me that way. And second, who the hell would he even be jealous of? Sangyeon hardly gets jealous by anything.” You squint at him. What a silly idea.
“No c’mon. Trust me, he’ll be jealous alright. Especially when it comes to you.” He eyes you up and down subtly.
“What does that even me-” Before you could even finish your sentence you spot behind Hyunjae a group of students dressed in formal attire entering the bar. And like a moth to a flame, you immediately spot Sangyeon and his date amongst the group.
Hyunjae turns around to see what had been the cause of your panic, his eyes immediately spotting Sangyeon from a distance as well. And as soon as Sangyeon had a puzzled look on his face he knew that Sangyeon had spotted the two of you by the bar, wondering what the hell were you doing with Hyunjae of all people.
You hop off the bar stool, attempting to run away like you did during the dance, but you suddenly feel a hand gently grab you by the arm and pull you back before you could even make a run for it.
“C’mere.” Hyunjae asks.
“Wha-”
“Just follow my lead.” He whispers in your ear.
And before you know it, you feel Hyunjae lips pressed against yours. His hands cupping your face before sliding down to your waist, pulling you closer to him. It takes a moment for your brain to process what’s going on, but your body responds faster by wrapping your arms around Hyunjae’s neck and deepening the kiss.
The way his lips perfectly mold against yours, how soft they feel as his hands squeeze your waist. The little groan he lets out as you slip your tongue inside his mouth, tasting the beer he had drank as your fingers run through his hair.
You nearly moan with how he slowly but expertly moves his mouth against yours. As if he’s taking to memory what your lips feel like in case this moment would never happen again. Both you and Hyunjae nearly forget you’re practically sucking each other’s faces off in public, which was surprising considering the nature of your relationship with one another.
No one could even tell the two of you despised the other as you held each other like lovers.
None of you see it, but the way Sangyeon looks at both of you right now is as if he wants to throw daggers at Hyunjae from across the room. Witnessing the both of you passionately kissing each other makes his stomach churn, a feeling he has never felt before. So many questions run in his head as he continues to watch from afar.
Before he even tries to take a step towards your direction, he sees you both pull away from one another. Hyunjae whispering something in your ear as you look too stunned to speak before taking out his wallet, pulling out cash and settling it on the table before whisking you away out of the bar.
Sangyeon really should’ve brought you to the spring dance like he promised… because not only does he feel like an asshole, but a jealous one at that.
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The car ride on the way to your house was incredibly silent, as if what had happened between you and Hyunjae was just your imagination. Except it wasn’t. You could still feel his lips lingering on yours as you try to lean your head against the window and looking at anything passing by.
You’re broken from your trance as you hear Hyunjae’s door closing and his figure making its way to your side of the car. He lends out his hand for you to grab once again, helping you get out of the car and walk you to the front of your apartment.
“So… I’ll see you around?” Hyunjae smiles awkwardly says as he puts both his hands in his pockets.
“Hyunjae, wait-” You grab his elbow as he’s about to turn around.
“Hm?” He raises one eyebrow.
“I can’t believe I’m saying this but-” You huff in-between, “let’s go with your plan.” You watch the little mischievous smirk appear on Hyunjae’s lips.
“If you just wanted to make out some more you could’ve just asked.” He teases. You’re about to slap him on the arm but he catches your hand and holds it tight.
“I’m kidding! Just… Let me know when and what time we can talk about it more alright?” He squeezes your hand gently. You don’t know why but a tiny little butterfly flutters in your stomach as you feel Hyunjae’s thumb subconsciously stroke the back of your hand.
“Okay… Thank you by the way for tonight-” you tiptoe a bit to hold Hyunjae’s cheek and leave a light peck on his lips. He’s caught off guard by your action, almost leaning forward some more to continue kissing you but you pull away quick enough before he does.
“Y-yeah, sure. Anytime.” Thank god it’s night time he thinks, otherwise you would've easily spotted the redness flaring in his ears and made fun of him for it.
“Call me okay?” He squeezes your hand once more before letting go and walking back to his car. You watch him drive off before heading up to your apartment, leaning against the front door and letting out one big sigh of relief.
“What the hell did I get myself into?”
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“If you really want this to work, we have to set a few ground rules.” Hyunjae he pulls out a pen and paper from his bag, immediately writing down a numbered list for you both to fill out.
“Rule one- if one of us wants to stop this thing at any given moment, the contract will end.” Hyunjae says as he writes it down.
“Hmm.. what about rule two- if any of us catch some sort of feelings for one another, the contract is immediately terminated” You add. Hyunjae scoffs at the idea.
“Catch feelings? Seriously?” He looks up at you with a smirk. “Is there something you’ve been meaning to tell me this whole time?” He continues to tease.
“I’m serious! It’s only gonna get complicated for us to execute this plan if feelings are involved. Haven’t you seen the movies?” You ask him.
“Fine, you have a point.” He writes down your suggestion earlier.
“Okay, rule three- kisses are a must if you want this thing to work.” He looks at you in the eyes. “And other things couples do.”
You roll your eyes at him, “Fine, but nothing beyond second base please?” You scrunch your face at the thought.
“Oh?” Hyunjae looks at you with a few twinkles in his eyes. “So does that mean I get to play with your-”
“NO! Not that. Like y’know, just waist touching and maybe the occasional touch of the ass. But definitely and absolutely no touching my chest whatsoever.” You point your finger at him. “I'm serious.”
“Alright alright!” Hyunjae raises his hands up in defense. “Anything else you wanna add?”
“Let me see the list again.” You grab the paper from his hands, carefully examining the words written before nodding.
“This looks good. Yeah, I’m fine with this.” You hand the paper back to Hyunjae.
“It’s a deal.” He says as you both shake on it before getting up to part ways.
Before you have a chance to take a step towards where your class is, Hyunjae pulls you into his chest and leaves a kiss on your lips, making you squeal in surprise.
“Sit with me during lunch. We start this today, okay?” Hyunjae reminds you. You nod your head before shyly giving him a kiss on his cheek and walking away to head to your first class of the day.
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Sangyeon could not keep his eyes off you during study period. It had been this way every time you happen to be in the same room as him. You looked beautiful as ever of course but he could feel his blood pressure shooting up every time he would be near you.
Ever since that night he saw you kissing Hyunjae almost two weeks ago, it was like the two of you were everywhere.
He hated the way Hyunjae would always whisper something in your ear and you would laugh at whatever he said. Or the way his hand would find purchase on your lower back. And not to mention the way he would brush any loose hair behind your ear before kissing you goodbye.
It should’ve been him. He should've been the one doing all these things to you. He should've been the guy leaving you all those loving kisses, holding you by your waist, reminding you of how beautiful you look every single chance he got.
If only he was honest with you that night.
Sangyeon’s internal monologuing was cut short when he sees you getting up from your seat and patting Hyunjae on the shoulder before making your way between the bookshelves in the library.
As you slowly search for the book you need for your English paper, your shoulder bumps into a semi hard surface. “Oh! I’m so so-” you whisper but stop mid sentence as the familiar scent of cologne hits your nose.
“Hey….” Sangyeon whispers.
“Uh- Hi.” You back away from him a bit as an awkward silence falls between you two.
“How are things going? We haven’t talked in a while.” He fiddles with his own fingers, trying to think of the next words to say to you.
“Good I guess? Just trying to make it through the semester and stay motivated.” You respond.
“Sure looks like it-” Sangyeon mumbles. But you clearly hear him and scoff at his rudeness.
“What the hell is that supposed to mean?” You cross your arms against your chest.
“Seriously… Hyunjae? Why him?” He loudly whispers. “You’re better than that.”
“Yeah?” You step a little closer to Sangyeon, closing the gap between you two.
“Well where the fuck have you been huh? Where were you when I needed you?” You match the level of his tone.
“You don’t understand-”
“Then explain it to me then Sangyeon! I’m listening.”
He tries to speak but nothing comes out, panicking that this might be the last chance he could get to explain why he’s been so distant.
“I-uh” His eyes look everywhere else except you.
“Nothing? Thought so.” You push past him, making sure to harshly nudge your shoulder against his.
Sangyeon tries to follow you, but as soon as he steps out between the bookshelves he sees you head out of the library while Hyunjae scrambles to grab all your things from the table and chases after you. He sighs out of frustration combing his hair as he mentally curses at himself.
Oh he really fucked things up didn’t he?
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“And he had the nerve, THE NERVE to tell me I know better. I can’t believe him!” You pace back and forth in your bedroom as you rant to Hyunjae about the events that took place in the library
“I honestly don’t know if I should feel offended or flattered at his little comment about me.” Hyunjae’s eyes follow you as you continue to move around.
“Think about it this way, at least we know the plan is working. Otherwise he wouldn’t have approached you like that.”
“Maybe? Ugh! Why are men so dumb?” You sigh.
“We think with our dicks that’s why. Well… maybe that’s just me.” He smirks, trying to crack a joke to break the tension. His little joke becomes successful when you look back at him and chuckle.
“Forget about him,” Hyunjae adds. “Tonight we drink to celebrate passing yet another exam and watch movies til we fall asleep or you decide to kick me out. Whichever comes first.”
He pours a full glass of wine for each of you as you plop down beside him and get cozy.
“Fine, but I’m picking the movie okay?” You tell him as you open your laptop and search for your favorite comfort movie.
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Hours pass, almost three bottles of wine finished, and the movie long forgotten as you decide to chat with each other about anything and everything instead. It’s been nothing but laughs and mocking each other as you reminisce all the times you pissed each other off and funny stories of one another.
“Oh the look on your face was fucking priceless-” You laugh out loud, trying to catch your breath as you recall one embarrassing moment of Hyunjae.
“Well what the hell was I supposed to do then huh? Tell the professor I was getting a handjob under the table during his class?” His voice raises in defense. “Not my fault she couldn’t resist me.”
“You looked so mortified too holy shit-” You laugh.
“I was nearing a fucking orgasm okay? Then he calls me to the front of the class to write down my answer for the stupid formula. That professor practically edged me!” His cheeks starting to turn even more red as you continue to laugh at him.
“Ow it hurts, wait-” You clutch your stomach from the pain of laughing too much.
“Oh yeah? Let’s see how you like it then-” Hyunjae lunges forward, pulling your arms away to tickle you furiously.
You squeal out his name, trying to push him away while he tackles you. As you try to squirm out of his grip, you don’t even realize the position you’ve gotten yourselves into. Your body caged under his as he grabs your wrists and pins them down at each side of your head.
As the laughter starts to die down, Hyunjae looks down at you with heavy eyelids. You look incredibly pretty under him in this moment, he thinks to himself.
You didn’t even do anything in that moment but it was like he felt so drawn to you. Like you were a siren pulling him in. Your breath hitches as he leans down closer to your face, briefly stopping to search for any sign of consent before fully pressing his lips against yours.
This obviously is not the first time you two have kissed. But for some reason, this kiss felt different than all the other ones. You both kiss each other slowly, lips molding like a perfect dance as his hands let go of your wrist and hold you by your waist instead.
And just like the first time you kissed, you find yourself automatically wrapping your arms around him and running your fingers through his hair, pulling his body closer to yours as kisses travel down from your jaw to the most sensitive part of your neck.
You feel your core blooming in heat as his tongue expertly swirls inside your mouth. How it pulsates for him as you feel his hands go under your shirt, stopping right under your breasts.
You suddenly gasp as his hands start fondling your bra covered chest, gently kneading them as he continues to leave small marks on your sensitive skin with his lips.
A choked moan comes out as you feel his manhood throb against your core, reminding you of the thin layers of clothing, your thin pajama shorts and his sweatpants that stand between you two from crossing any lines.
“Hyunjae, wait-” You try to slowly push him off. His head pulls away to look at your face.
“Oh shit. I’m- fuck sorry no chest stuff-” You see the panic look in his eyes. But before he’s able to pull away, you grab him by the wrists and press his hands deeper into your chest.
A deep groan comes out of his mouth as he squeezes your breasts again, feeling your sensitive buds slowly hardening under your bra.
“No it’s not that. I-” You close your eyes for a moment before swallowing the lump in your throat. You feel your cheeks become warm at what you’re about to confess to him.
"I've never done stuff like this before..." you nervously say.
It takes a few seconds for your words to sink in before Hyunjae looks back at you with widened eyes.
“Oh uh- are you sure? We can stop. We don’t even have to do anything more-” He caresses your cheek.
“The thing is…” You pause to slowly swipe your thumb on his lower lip. “I want to-”
You look up at him with the most innocent looking eyes and Hyunjae swears to himself that he’s never seen anyone look at him the way you do. Like he had hung the moon for you. Hyunjae softly smiles at you before leaning to kiss you once again,
"Then sit tight baby… Because I'm about to rock your world."
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kilibaggins · 3 months
Text
Promise | Daryl Dixon
Daryl Dixon x Reader
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A/N: I've loved daryl dixon since middle school and now i feel like i should try to write him! this was not requested but i really felt like writing for him so here i am.
Summary: Ever since things started slowing down at the prison, and more people started to join the group, Daryl started... Distancing himself from you. You've had enough.
my requests are very much open just so you know! go ahead and request something just read my rules first (its linked in pinned)
Word Count: 1100
The prison has been without incident for two weeks now. A couple weeks ago a fight broke out, and before that, it had been a case of theft… Things that remind you of the old world. Small things compared to some of the big ones you've experienced.
Things seem… Nice. People are starting to flourish, people are starting to grow. You've made new friends, new fellow survivors who you share your days with. It's comforting to know that after everything you have somewhere safe to be, even if only for now.
The only thing is that… Daryl never talks to you.
See, to many people this might be normal. He's Mr. Macho. He's the one that stays secluded and isolated and never talks unless he has to but… This is different. He's always been different with you. You've always been the one who tries your best to check on him, to care for him, even when he's pushing himself away.
Even back on Hershel's farm, when he kept his tent far away, you walked out there every day to check on him and keep him company. When Andrea accidentally shot him and he seemed to be on death's door you were the one to help him through that.
Once the farm got overrun, and you all started frantically trying to find a new place to be, you two had gotten even closer. He'd watch your back, and you'd try to watch his, it was as great as a new friendship could be in a world that has ended.
But after the prison got up and running and after things calmed down he started to… Disappear. When you'd go to find him for hunts he wouldn't be there, or he'd already be gone. When you'd try to do anything with him he'd practically push you into a different group.
You have to admit, it hurts. You thought things were going well, but all of a sudden he's completely cold-shouldering you.
It's been a long day, and in your frustration, you realize that all you want is the man you had once thought of as your best friend. Daryl. You huff and climb on the long stairs of the prison up to the back where Daryl put his cell. Pretty much as far away from everyone as possible, in true Daryl fashion.
“Hey…” You say, leaning against the entranceway to the cell. The cell door is only half closed and you see he's cleaning his bow.
“What?” He asks, instead of saying hello back. You roll your eyes.
“Just wanted to talk for a minute.” You say, trying to smile at him.
“Then talk.” He says, his voice frustrated. You feel the emotion pool up in your chest.
“I just- How have you been? We haven't talked much lately, but-”
“Ya got anything important to say or are ya just here to bug me?” Daryl asks, finally looking up at you. You tear up and turn away, taking a few steps away from the cell.
“Whatever…” You say. Before you make it to the stairs though you pause. You turn around and march to the door. “You know you don't have to be such a jerk.”
“'Scuse me?” Daryl asks, his eyes piercing as he puts down his crossbow.
“You heard me. What is your problem?” You ask, angry. You're done having him ignore you like this. “All I want to do is talk to my best friend for more than ten minutes-”
“Best friend? Please, ya can't be serious.” Daryl snaps. He stands up and throws his arms out. “I ain't yer best friend. Go talk to someone else.”
“What happened to us being close, huh? You used to like being around me.” You say, your voice raising.
“I did like bein’ around ya. But things change.” Daryl says, turning around and picking up his jacket. He always has to be fidgeting with something.
“Why?” You ask, your voice breaking a bit. You cough and shake your head. “Why do things have to change? What did I do wrong?”
“Ya didn't do nothing. Just… Just go be with someone else. I got issues I gotta take care of.” He says. He isn't looking at you, head looking down at the small patch on his jacket that you added.
“… I don't want to be with someone else.” You say.
“Well, ya should!” Daryl suddenly yells. “Go be with someone actually worth somethin’.”
Your heart breaks. You finally step into his cell and walk up to him. He's purposefully avoiding eye contact with you and you reach out and touch his arm. He moves away only for a second before letting you touch him.
“Daryl… You're my best friend. I'm gonna be honest, you're probably more than that, you mean the world to me. You're who I want to be around… Don't tell me you've been pushing me away because of that.”
Daryl doesn't say anything and frowns. He looks at you before looking back down.
“Don't want ya findin' out ya wasted yer time on me,” Daryl says. You reach up and gently tuck his hair behind his ear. He flinches slightly and you frown.
“Let me make that choice, okay?” You say gently.
“But-”
“Let me make my own choices. I want to be around you. I want to talk to you and hang out with you. You're it for me, whether you want it to be romantic or platonic, I want you in my life.” You say. You reach down and straighten his shirt. “Everyone else here doesn't get what we've been through. You do. Do you want me around?”
“Yeah, but-”
“Then you’re stuck with me.” You say, smiling at him.
"M'sorry." He says, as he tries to look away to hide his smile but you catch it anyways.
“There you are.” You say, grinning.
“Stop.” He mumbles, trying to turn away again, his smile getting bigger. You grab his hands turn him back to you and smile widely at him. You love his smile. “Said stop, punk.”
You laugh and lean up to kiss his cheek. You can feel how warm it is.
“Don’t leave me, okay?” You ask, looking up at him. Your smile is gone now, and he can tell you’re serious. “Don’t push me away. Please.”
“A’right. Promise.” He says, shrugging, but he still has that genuine look in his eyes.
“Pinky promise?” You ask, holding out your pinky. He rolls his eyes.
“What're ya, six?”
“Shut up and pinky promise me, Dixon.” You say, laughing. He scoffs and his pinky interlocks with yours.
“Promise.”
257 notes · View notes
heyidkyay · 29 days
Text
And I'm petrified of being alone, now |
Part Seventeen
Matty Healy x reader
Summary: She’s just trying to get by, really. What with being a single parent to her four year old son whilst simultaneously trying to kick start a successful career as a radio presenter. She’s got everything she’s ever wanted though, friends close by, a mum who’s merely a phone call away, and of course her baby boy. What else is there to wish for? But then, it’s not long before her relatively normal life gets upended and turned on its head, and she’s suddenly forced to deal with situations she’s never even thought to imagine.
What happens when one mention of a certain controversial singer on her show sends a flood of unexpected challenges her way? 
Authors Note: Okay! Hi!:) Just have to say thank you for all the love you lot keep showing this series, it’s so mad and so very appreciated. Honestly makes me want to carry on writing. But I also wanted to add a quick warning to this update.. There is a lot going on, we finally get what we’ve been waiting for!! But there are other topics that also come into play. SO that being said please read the warnings below.
Warnings: Mentions of drug and alcohol abuse (past tense), as well as sobriety, also a previous death, bit gruesome but needed- this relates back to a conversation held between Matty and Jamie in Part Eight.
> Last update: look back here if you'd like!
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She never did call.
Matty waited, and then waited some more. He fidgeted the rest of the day, smoked his way through a pack of fags when they’d been down at the studio, and then nursed a single pint after having allowed the guys to bully him into one of the local pubs.
It wasn’t until much later that night that he heard anything from her at all, and it hadn’t been a call, but instead a text.
Messages now Squeaks xx I listened to it 
He’d been cooped up in his office since the second he’d gotten home, looking through a couple of older demos and other sound clips in hopes that he’d find something that would fit with the current sound of their new album. George had been on his case about it all, claiming he’d been too spaced out as of late, so Matty had huffed but ultimately followed through.
Songbooks from years before were piled up high on his desk and on the floor, pages full of chords and scribbled lyrics cluttered the rest of the space, but he continued on, using it to distract him from the torturous wait.
When his phone finally did buzz, Matty had almost decided not to answer it, figuring that it would just be a message from Jamie, or maybe his mum. He was still waiting for that ring. But fuck was he glad that he’d taken a glance. Otherwise he might’ve missed it.
Are you busy?
The next text had come through almost a minute after the first, as though she’d been debating sending it. Matty frowned down at the screen, pushing away from his desk slightly.
She’d heard it.
She’d heard the demo. 
He didn’t quite know how to feel about that, or what to take from her clipped response. It was why he had essentially asked her to call him, because at least then he would’ve been able to somewhat determine what she’d thought about it, how she might’ve felt.
His tongue slid between the row of his front teeth in thought, staring down at the messages he’d received whilst his thumbs hovered over the keyboard looking for something to say.
Can you come over?
His fucking breath got caught in his throat just reading that, his tongue suddenly too big for his mouth. Matty didn't even think before he hastily answered her, worried she might take it all back.
Give me ten minutes.
He could do ten minutes. 
Fuck it. He’d fucking speedtail it out of here and try for five if it meant that she’d just let him in again. The last week had been painful enough, no need to fucking prolong it.
So that was what he did, throwing on the first pair of trainers he’d found in the hallway and grabbing at the car keys he’d tossed down on the counter months earlier. Forgetting about the album and the work he’d planned to do, along with whatever else that had seemed so important just a second ago.
She called and he would come running.
It was pissing down by the time he made it to her place.
Headlights on and ignition still running, Matty went to make his escape from the driver's seat, practically vibrating with the anticipation of it all. But he did momentarily pause to yank the keys from beneath the wheel before eventually scrabbling his way out of the sidedoor, feet immediately dropping into the murky puddle sat beneath. 
He’d parked like a fucking dickhead, halfway onto the curb and his boot sticking out into the empty street, but he could care less about it as he jogged around the front of the car and up the first few steps to her door.
There was blood rushing in his ears, filling up his head and making him dizzy with it all. He raised a fist to knock, practically bouncing on the balls of his feet. 
He’d gotten there in just under seven minutes. 
His heart was pounding like mad. 
He knocked. 
It was minutes or maybe seconds before he heard a slight scuffle on the other side. Before the hallway light turned on and peered through the painted window pane sat atop the familiar front door. 
The chain fell with a clang and Matty swallowed, watching on as the hinges creaked, revealing her face.
She stared up at him, standing in a pair of pyjamas he remembered seeing on a late night call of theirs, her hair all tied up in one of those pretty buns, soft curls escaping at the sides.
Her lips parted with her next breath, the sound of it jumped out at him and Matty couldn’t really hold back anymore. It had been six months. Six whole months. Almost to the day they’d met... Back when he’d been cocksure and arrogant. When he’d still been reeling from another stint in rehab, and from the stunt before the summer, and from Luke’s death.
Matty paused. 
He hadn’t really thought about Luke so easily. Not ever. Not since that night. Not in passing.
But she was currently staring back at him. Her eyes wide and tired. Shining in the light of the street lamps that crowded the street outside. 
Matty stepped forward, reaching for her. 
“Tell me to stop.” He muttered. 
She didn’t. 
And so his hand found the edge of her jaw, fingers nestling into a place at her hairline, skimming the tip of her ear.
“I can’t.” She answered him. Always so full of truth. 
And Matty, Matty was a selfish man. He’d been a selfish kid, too. A bratty teenager. A hellish son and an even worse boyfriend. Always so egotistical, so bold, so brazen. But even more so, selfish. 
He would take and take. And this moment was no different. He took.
Her mouth met his with an agonising fever, and there was an eager sigh that escaped in the breath shared between them that Matty couldn’t really determine if was his or hers.
She let him in so easily, let his tongue roam. She let him pull her close, let his hand find purchase on her hip and hear her moan. 
It was a whimper of a thing, a sound that was swallowed up by his mouth as he consumed her again. But it fuelled that fire within him, that heat which had been simmering so close to the surface of his skin for weeks, months now. 
“Mouse.” Matty said shakily, walking her backwards, further into the flat, where their feet shuffled over the hardwood floors. The door swung shut behind them and rattled in the silence before he was spinning and pressing her shoulders up against its cold wood. 
“Matty.” She breathed back to him, fingers catching on his neck, then his jaw, winding their way up into his hair. Tugging. 
A grunt escaped him and he pressed harder with it, teeth catching on her teeth, hands moulding into her skin. 
She tasted of something sweet, it coated the length of her tongue and melded well with the cigarette he’d lit on his way over. He wanted to taste more of it, found his nose pressing against the skin of her cheek in an attempt to do so. 
It was a second later that he felt himself rut up against her, accidentally mind, but the zip of his jeans tugged at the band of her bottoms and the movement made him realise he was hard. Had been half-way there from the moment she had texted him, but now, in her hallway, with her grinding up against him, and with those pretty little sounds she let slip, it was almost painful.
“Squeaks.” He managed to force out and she swallowed her own name right up, one arm wrapping around the length of his shoulders whilst the other tugged at the nape of his neck. 
Matty followed her demands effortlessly, a hand slipping under the hem of her shirt to feel at the warm skin hidden beneath, a calloused thumb brushing against the jut of her hip.
He explored, felt the edges of rigid flesh she kept hidden and out of sight, the freckles that lingered and dotted her torso, then wedged his knee between her legs. Hands grabbing at the backs of her thighs. 
One of her knees rode up higher on his side as he shifted even closer, letting her use him like a makeshift ladder to lift herself further up in the little space which stood between him and the door. 
He rutted again and the joint of her knee tightened by his hip, the heel of her foot digging into the back of his leg, forcing him even nearer. He grabbed at the swell of her arse, noting the way she arched into him at the touch. How her stomach tensed. 
It had just been pissing it down outside, he recalled belatedly, but her warmth in that moment seemed to dry up the remaining raindrops caught in his hair and along the shoulders of his coat. His fingertips pressed harder into her thighs at the thought, feeling the bottom of her shirt ride up higher between them upon catching on the zip of his jacket. 
She nipped at his lip, then his jaw, hands all but clawing at his neck and his back.
“Squeaks.” He tried again, brain hazy with want but needing to do this right. He had to do this right. “Squeaks.” Again he said, a plea within a shared breath between them, “Baby, please.”
She retreated all too quickly, letting him go with a sharp inhale. Lids heavy with avidity as she blinked back at him. 
Matty realised then that he’d had her pinned to the door, crowded against the wood and practically having lifted her up off of her feet. He swallowed thickly at the sight and willed his dick to calm the fuck down. But it had been way too fucking long. 
He was unhurried in the way he shifted beneath her before carefully letting her go, unwinding the leg he held at his hip before she slid slowly down his front. Feet hitting the cold wood floors with a soft thud.
He blinked and gone was that selfishness they had just shared, that immediate heat, and suddenly she was all wary, shy almost. Matty reached up to tuck a loose strand of hair behind her ear, before he steeled himself and finally took a step back.
“You came.” She murmured after a breath, and had his mind been in better shape he’d have been quicker with his quip.
But yet, he was left drifting in between the heady thrill and the uneventful come down they’d shared. 
He blinked slowly at her. Could see that the hallway light was the only one on, but somewhere, further down the hall, a soft glow from one of her many lamps crept its way past a door. 
“You said you’d call.” He found himself saying in reply, though it wasn’t the reprimand he’d thought it was. 
Her smile was soft then. Fond. 
His breath caught at the sight of her, still laboured from the minute before.
“After.” Squeaks whispered in recall. And Matty heard himself repeat it, “After, you said.”
She took a small step closer to him, the padding of her feet echoed in the narrow walkway. Matty’s hands twitched at his sides.
He saw her throat bob. 
“Tea?” She questioned, and Matty was both thankful and resentful for the quiet offer. 
He nodded, blinking owlishly at her. 
They stood there, not moving, for a long moment. The sound of a car passed, then the scuffle of a person or two outside, as well as the far off yap of a neighbouring dog. And still they just stood there, staring.
She took another step nearer and Matty attempted not to react to the way her fingers caught on the front of his coat, memorising the careful way she started to peel it off of him, turning so that she could claim it and then hang it off some place to the side. He looked at her the whole while, scared to take his eyes off her, in truth.
He licked at his lower lip when he caught her staring too and captured her hand in his when she went to step around him. 
“Tea.” He reminded himself and she smiled, eyes flickering across the length of his face. As though she was seeing him for the first time.
“Tea.”
Her kitchen always felt so homely. 
She had spices fixed to a rack on the wall, wound in growing ivy attached to the potted plant that sat on the windowsill beside it. Her fridge was dotted in magnets and polaroids, and a drawing of Teddy’s hung front and centre. The table was always so neat, though still cluttered with the odd crayon and lego piece, a bowl of fruit was perched in the very middle. She had one of those kettle cosy’s too, a knitted one that reminded Matty of days spent at his nana’s house when he was just a boy. 
His favourite part of all of it though, had to be her. 
He stood in the doorway and just watched as she puttered about the space, flashbacks of previous visits coming back to him. She had this easy grace about her, an elegance he always seen but could never quite make out. She was a piece to many puzzles in the way she typically held herself, so ready to fight and so willing to wilt, but in that moment she just was.
And Matty could hardly tear his eyes away from her, from the length of her back to the curve of her waist. The taste, the memory of her still coating his tongue.
He’d kicked off his shoes before he could trail a messy track throughout her home, so his footsteps were quiet when he finally crossed the kitchen tiles. He paused just behind her, his hands falling to her hips whilst his chin dropped to rest on her shoulder.
She allowed it. Picking up the kettle to pour over two mismatched mugs, he simply watched her work.
It was a difficult task not allowing his hands to wander, or to keep his mouth from pressing against the pulse in her neck, but he withheld, content to just hold her. Humming when she picked up the milk and thinking over the last day they’d spent together. That night at his.
They moved over to the table not long after, her kitchen blinds were still open so the moon gifted them all the light they needed. Matty kept close, knocking his knees against hers at the very corner of the table, unwilling to go without.
She was quiet still whilst she danced a finger around the rim of her steaming brew, Matty was mesmerised by the delicate motion.
A hum of hers broke the silence they had since settled in, the softness of it causing him to blink and look up, immediately recognising the faint tune of the demo he’d sent her.
He smiled, his eyes caught on to the one she wore too. Practically conspiratorial.
His legs reached outwards to capture one of her ankles between his feet, her gaze flickered back and forth between both his eyes. He wondered what she saw in them, what she made of him.
“I’m guessing you liked it then.” Matty spoke, voice ever so low, still scared to break their languid solitude.
Mouse dipped her chin in a nod, peering up at him through dark lashes that made him want to catch her by the neck and pull her in again. He knew what she tasted like now, he felt as though it would forever haunt him.
“Thank you,” She whispered after, fingers cupped around the bottom of her mug. His brow furrowed.
“For what?”
She smiled again, blinking at him sweetly, “For my gifts, for always being so lovely, for sending me that song.”
Matty snorted, knowing that the last thing he could possibly be was lovely.
Fingertips touched his chin then and she guided his face back up to meet hers, he hadn’t realised he’d even looked away. But it was then that he was reminded of that night in his own kitchen, crowded between her legs and the counter, her kind eyes. You’re enough.
“Was it for me?” She questioned, watching him closely again. Something she tended to always do. “‘Cause that kiss, it sort of made it feel like it was for me.”
Matty grinned, eyes squinting with the strength of it. 
It was so easy- too easy, even- for her to make him smile like that, and he couldn’t even begin to decide whether he loved or hated the fact that she had the ability. 
“Yeah, Squeaks. It was for you.”
Her cheeks dimpled in an attempt to dim the smile she then wore, elbows pressing against the table’s edge, her foot resting on top of his own. “Good.” She murmured, leaning in closer now.
“Good?” He chuckled, following the motion. Eyes caught on the curve of her mouth.
“Uhuh,” She breathed into the small space between them, nose brushing against the side of Matty’s own. “Really good.”
He laughed again, low and breathy this time around, before he finally closed the distance and kissed her for a second time.
She laughed too, smiling against his lips.
For an insomniac, the dark was a place full of many contradictions.
Matty had spent countless hours staring up at all types of ceilings, in all sorts of places, and in all kinds of countries. But hers, he reckoned, was possibly his favourite. As most things had come to be in the short time he’d spent with Mouse.
Because even as she slept on beside him, bundled in the duvet and a blanket that smelt of her, he didn’t stress over the fact that he was still wide awake. 
His mind was too preoccupied to stress. Just thinking back to the expression she’d worn when she’d first opened the front door. To the breathy gasps that had escaped her in the hallway. The way she’d gently carded her fingers through his hair after she’d lured him into bed. Promising to talk more tomorrow.
He thought of Luke then, as well. As he often did whenever the darkness plagued him.
The fucker would be laughing if he could just see him now, obsessing and all soppy over some bird. Smiling away to himself in the dark.
But Matty knew that he’d be happy too. Glad that he was finally getting back on the right track. Actually trying this time around. Because Luke had known the hardships of addiction just as well as Matty had- it was what had killed him in the end, wasn't it.
He could still picture his face, both before and after the fall. One second they’d all been grinning on that roof, high as kites and drunk out of their minds, having the time of their lives, and then his had hit the concrete.
Matty’s stomach rolled at the thought.
At the eerie silence that had followed.
He’d been struggling that night, trying to get clean, to stay clean. And they’d only gone to the party, Luke and Danny, to appease him. Luke, having tagged along wanting to look out for him, to make sure that he didn’t get too caught up in anything he couldn’t get himself out of.
Luke had been sober three months at that point. Clean of the drugs and the drink. All of it. He’d drank that night though, the party had been at one of his dodgier mates places and he wouldn’t have been able to have stayed in the clear.
Matty remembered egging him on, telling him to live a little. To have a beer. A shot. And then another. And another. Someone else had offered him that line though.
He’d been hammered by the time some idiot had come up with that dare and they’d all thought it had been a sick idea to try and walk the length of the roof. Like they were at Zippo’s sodding circus.
Luke had been doing so good. Matty had known it too. What with his first EP coming out that September, something which Jamie had made happen, and his new flat that he’d not long moved into. Away from the familiarity of street corners he knew far too well and faces of dealers that he’d seen time and time again before.
He’d been good. Been going steady.
Then he was just dead.
Matty didn’t close his eyes then, even as they began to water. Didn’t want to see him like that. Knew that he would if only he shut his eyes. Because he couldn't stand to see the reminder, the life that had left him too quickly.
A slight sniff broke him from his thoughts then and he stilled as Mouse moved and turned in her sleep.
He let himself breathe a little easier once she’d settled again, tucking her face into the crook of his shoulder and nestling further into his side. He wrapped an arm around her, needing her close, and then finally allowed his eyes to fall shut, burying his face in the top of her hair.
He wondered if she’d let him stay from now on and pressed a long kiss to her forehead.
He hoped that she would, listening to the quiet that hummed throughout the rest of her flat as his mind began to let go of what consciousness it had once clung on to.
‘Tomorrow’ was his final thought before he eventually drifted off. It had been a long time since he’d thought that he’d ever make it to a tomorrow.
It was a grunt I woke up to. The heavy and unfavoured kind, the type that was only ever forced out of you when you received a hefty blow to the stomach.
I felt my face wrinkle as I pressed in closer to the warmth beside me, unhappy to have been woken. But then I heard a whisper, followed by a giggle, which had me blinking blearily and peering up at the toddler now towering over me.
“Wake now?”
“Teddy.” I heard someone else laugh right above my head, and I was quick in the way I looked up, recognising that the warmth I’d been clinging to had been Matty all along. “You’re an actual monster, you know that?”
Teddy squealed happily when Matty tickled his sides, but seemed content with his place on the man’s stomach and the fact that Matty was here at all. 
I wanted to groan at the very idea, I hadn't much thought this through. Not when I’d heard the song, thinking back to the night I’d spent at his, the fight we’d had, the way he’d held Teddy and promised him that things would soon be alright.
It hadn’t felt real. It still didn’t.
“Wake?” Teddy said to me again and I had to give a soft laugh when I felt his finger prod at my cheek, which was probably marked with the line of Matty’s t-shirt now. “Yeah?”
I chuckled again, peering up at him. “Yeah, I’m awake.” I replied, smiling before I rubbed at my eyes.
Matty’s arm seemed to be tucked up under me because it twitched a tad when I moved. I grimaced at the loss of feeling he must have experienced and murmured a quiet “Sorry,” shuffling over slightly so that I could free the limb. But he merely laughed to himself before his hand came up to rub at my arm, keeping me close. 
“It’s fine.” Matty replied, his voice tinged with sleep and grainy from lack of use, but then he winced and flexed his fingers, “Oh.”
I snorted softly and glanced up at him, “Pins and needles?”
His nose wrinkled further, as did his lips when he tilted his head back and tried to shake loose the feeling from his wrist. I let him have his arm back, turning over onto my stomach to simply watch him, drinking in the sight of him whilst I still could.
“Yeah.” He hissed out and Teddy, who was watching too, started to shake his arm alongside Matty.
Matty only noticed the mimicking movement when he felt the toddler shift on his torso and opened his eyes up only to laugh at the way that Teddy was now copying him.
“Oi,” He admonished, using his other hand to playfully pinch at the boy’s side, “What you think you’re doin’?”
Teddy giggled, hair a mess from having just woken but grinning all the while. “Dancin’! Like you!”
I shook my head and bit back my sudden amusement before dropping it down into my hands when I couldn’t quite manage to hide my growing smile.
“Oh, we’re dancing are we?” I heard Matty say, and could feel the grin he probably wore. Then Teddy was laughing again and squirming beside me once more, sounding so happy, before the bed tilted more so to one side and a soft thud was heard. “Oi, where you off to!” Matty asked him whilst Teddy’s giggles still echoed around the space.
“Tele!” Was the only response he got and I listened to the way Teddy’s feet hurried out of the room, having escaped Matty’s merciless tickles.
There was a quiet for a moment before I felt a hand come to cradle my head and fingers card their way through my hair.
I leaned into the touch, savouring it. I didn’t think anyone had ever touched me with such a softness before, like I was something to be treasured, to be held and kept close.
It was a long while before I finally raised my head again, blinking at the sweet sight I was met with. I smiled at the mess his curls were in and the way his eyes squinted in the dim light of the room.
“Hi.” I whispered and his fingers stilled in my hair when he looked back at me. 
Matty didn’t say a thing though, merely shuffled further down the bed, the duvet being kicked somewhere to the bottom before he finally settled in beside me, both our heads now resting on a single pillow.
His fingertips skirted along the edge of my jaw and trailed across the bottom of my lip before his thumb reached out to catch it too, pinching the flesh ever so slightly.
“You snore.” Matty said to me then and my mouth dropped open slightly in offence.
“I do not.”
He snorted to himself, grin widening, “You do.”
I shoved him but his hands were quick to grab at my arms, wrapping them up and moving to press them against his chest. “It’s cool though, they’re cute snores.”
“How the fuck can they be cute, Matty?”
He rolled his eyes at the ask, still grinning away. “Like, just soft and stuff. Don’t stress, I’ve roomed with George and he’s got the lungs of a whale or summat. I could probably sleep next to a fog horn and feel at home.”
A bright laugh escaped me at that, before I was shaking my head gently and looking back at his sleepy smile. “That makes me feel so much better.”
Matty smacked his lips around another grin, shrugging the shoulder that wasn’t pressed to the mattress. He reached out then, brushing a loose strand from out of my face and let his thumb linger on a freckle.
“Your breath stinks as well.”
I bit into my bottom lip at that, narrowing my eyes at him. “Well yours is no better! And besides, you didn’t seem to mind it much last night.”
I went to turn over then but he was hasty in his movements to grab at me, tugging me back towards him, closer this time. I laughed joyfully, “Hey!”
“Hi.” Matty grinned smugly once we'd settled, his hand falling to the small of my back.
I was gripping one of his shoulders now whilst my other arm laid in the little space between us. “I said that already.” I told him, feeling each soft exhale that escaped him. 
He hummed, thumb rubbing circles into my skin. “I missed you, you know.”
My brow furrowed, “You slept right beside me, you muppet.”
He pinched my hip in retaliation and so I chuckled. “You know what I meant.”
I did know.
“Missed you, too.” I murmured, letting my fingertips trail up over the side of his neck, liking the feel of his barely there stubble. “But-”
He stopped me then, nudging my cheek with the tip of his nose, “I know. Later, yeah?”
My eyes fell closed and I hummed in agreement, later was fine. We could talk later.
His hand pressed against the curve of my back, forcing me even closer, and so my fingers worked themselves into his hair. I exhaled softly and tilted my head forward just a touch. He closed the distance between us in a single heartbeat.
Kissing Matty was different, everything about it just felt right in a way that no other kisses ever quite had. Things appeared to click. Fall into place around me. 
But don't get me wrong, it was painful too, because there was that ache in my chest again, the hole that hollowed out my unforgiving heart. I wanted him but at the same time, I was too terrified to reach out and touch.
Our lips brushed, once, twice, then a third time, hesitant and careful, before something shifted and I was taken back to the previous night. To the way his fingers had dug deep into my thighs, to the front door pressing against my spine, to the way he’d held me so weightlessly.
Talking could wait til later, I reminded myself.
Now, all I wanted was for Matty to consume me and I immediately gasped at the cold hand that dragged its way up my side to tease me, thumb brushing against the nipple that hardened beneath it. 
I wouldn’t let him have all the fun though, so without a second thought I rolled him over and settled on his hips. He was surprised by the change but adapted seamlessly, rutting up off the mattress to meet me, one hand still toying with me, taunting, whilst the other cupped the back of my head.
It was back and forth for a short while, mouth chasing mouth, chests heaving with the force of it.
But then, a bang hollowed out the flat.
I jumped at the sudden noise and shot my head over towards the door, listening in closer.
“Okay?” I called out, noting the breathless quality my voice now had. I waited and didn’t move even when Matty’s hands came to just sit on my waist. 
“‘Kay!” I heard Teddy shout back and I released a semi-amused huff before turning back to face the man beneath me, “Sorry.”
And I was. I really was, especially when I forced myself to drop back down onto the bed sheets next to him.
Matty simply chuckled and I glanced over at him, smiling slightly when he reached out to swipe a gentle thumb over the scar on my jaw. “You’re good." I wondered if he was just saying that, but then, "What do you think he’s actually done though? Sounded like the bike to me.”
I sighed at the very thought. The bike had been one of my mum’s many Christmas gifts to Teddy, one which I hardly had any room for in the flat. I silently hoped that it wasn't the bike, but was caught on the way Matty had so easily adapted, moving on without complaint.
Was that normal?
Matty’s hand coaxed me back into looking at him again and I softened when I saw the smile he wore. “Later,” He reminded me, knocking a knuckle against my chin before he withdrew completely, sitting up on the edge of the bed. “How about a fry up then? There's that bakery by the studio or the cafe up near mine, choice is yours but it’s on me.”
“Matty.” I huffed, not a whine but near enough, extending an arm out in hopes that it would call him back to bed.
He smirked, glancing at me from over his shoulder once he'd stood. He dragged a hand through his hair. “Come on, got a growing boy to feed- Teddy too, I 'spose.”
I rolled my eyes but couldn’t help my grin. “You’re an idiot.”
“So you’ve said.” He quipped and I could hear how his laughter filled the flat even as he headed for the bathroom, “Teds get ready, mate! We're getting bacon!”
I fell back onto the mattress with a smile, staring up at the ceiling above me with a little bit of hope.
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pastelbunnelby · 8 months
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Strawberries and Wolves (Diluc Ragnvindr X Reader, Platonic!Razor X Reader)
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[Plus-size!Reader Friendly][POC!Reader Friendly][Fem!Reader Friendly][GN!Reader Friendly]
Summary ~ During your time living at Dawn Winery with your husband, you got to know the young boy who lives in the forest of Wolvendom and make frequent visits to see him. During one of these visits, you’re attacked.
Disclaimer ~ I do not own Genshin Impact or any of its characters.
Word Count ~ 4k
Warnings ~ Husband!Diluc, flirty Diluc, some kissing, blood, injury, Razor being the son sweetheart that he is, monsters (Rifthounds), fighting, no use of Y/n
Diluc Ragnvindr Masterlist
Genshin Impact Masterlist
A/N ~ Razor is my son. That is all.
•DO NOT run my work through any form of AI writing program•
•I do NOT consent to have my work posted, translated or published to any third party site or app. If anyone sees my work anywhere but here, it has been reposted without my permission•
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the sweet smell of freshly baked muffins filled the large kitchen around you as you reached inside the oven and carefully removed the hot pan, the thick fabric covering your hands warming up as you carried the pan over to the island in the middle of the kitchen. A dozen blueberry muffins now sat on the counter, steam billowing up from the tops of them as you gently poked the tops of a couple with a toothpick to ensure they were baked properly, a smile forming on your lips when the toothpick came out clean.
You leaned forward and pressed your palms to the edge of the wooden countertop, pushing your face into the trail of fragrant steam floating up into the air above the fresh pastries and inhaling the comforting scent.
Next to the pan of muffins sat a basket, the inside filled with various foods you had spent the morning making and even some fruits and vegetables you had picked up from the market in Mondstat the day before.
Once a week, you prepared a basket of food to take up into Wolvendom for the young boy who lived there with the wolves. You had always had a soft spot for the young boy, ever since you met him just over a year ago. It was the middle of the night and you were on your way home and had chosen to cut through Wolvendom rather than go around, while on your way through you remembered clutching your knife tightly as you followed the trail of lamp grass. The grey-haired boy had nearly made you jump out of your skin when he snuck up on you, your attention has been fully on the glowing blue plants and not on the stranger approaching you from the trees. You had been confused at first, confused as to why the young boy was alone in the middle of the woods, at first he hadn’t answered your question and simply insisted that you couldn’t be there, that it was too dangerous for you.
After returning home to your then fiancé, you had explained to him how you had run into the young boy in the middle of the forest and wanted to return the next day to try and find him, try and learn more about him. Diluc had insisted Wolvendom was too dangerous—a point you used to argue your case on why you needed to find the boy—but ultimately caved, agreeing to help you find the boy the next day.
It had been well over a year now since you found the boy, eventually learning his name was Razor and that he lived in Wolvendom with the wolves. It had taken a long time for him to trust you, and when he finally did you began bringing him food and other things like books and clothes once a week, this became your new routine with the wolf boy.
“Well, doesn’t it smell divine in here?” The sultry voice of your husband broke you out of your thoughts as he walked into the kitchen and took a deep inhale of the air, “What have you baked today, dearest?” A pair of strong arms slid around your waist as he pressed his chest to your back and rested his chin on your shoulder, looking down at the pastries in front of you.
A content hum fell from your lips as you leaned back into his chest and tilted your head to the side so it pressed against his own, “Good morning Diluc, I was wondering how long it would take for you to find your way in here.” You turned to look at him and planted a quick kiss on his cheek, “Blueberry muffins for Razor, and a few other things that I found at the market yesterday that I thought he might like.” You leaned forward away from Diluc’s body and plucked a strawberry from the basket, bringing it to your lips as you turned around to face the red-haired man.
Diluc’s eyes flickered down to your lips as you bit into the red berry, a smile forming on your lips as you tasted the sweet fruit, “Why don’t you invite the boy to come here? Instead of going all the way up to Wolvendom?” He attempted to reach around you and grab a muffin only to have his hand swatted away by you.
“Hands off mister, these aren’t for you,” you scolded him while pursing your lips and looking up at him, “and you know Razor won’t come here, his home is in those woods, that’s where he is comfortable.” You ate the last of the strawberry.
Diluc sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose as he watched you begin wrapping the muffins in a white cloth and placing them inside the basket, “I don’t like you going up there alone, it’s dangerous.” He sighed, reaching for your hand and wrapping his fingers around your wrist.
Your gaze softened as you looked up at Diluc, his heart on his sleeve as he told you of his worries, “My love, just because I don’t have a Vision like you, does not mean I am incapable of protecting myself from a few stray Hilichurls.” You tugged on his arm and stepped forward, shifting your hand so your palm was pressed flat against his and your fingers were aligned, “I’ll be back in thirty minutes.” You slipped your free hand up to cup his jaw, running your thumb along his cheekbone while standing o your tiptoes and pressing your lips to his.
Diluc didn’t hesitate to kiss you back, one hand sliding around your waist in an attempt to pull you closer to him only to be stopped by you pulling your lips away from his.
“Strawberries. You taste like strawberries.” He whispered while trying to go in for another kiss, his brows furrowing together when you stepped away from him, “Hey,” he whined.
You reached into the closed basket and grabbed another strawberry, tossing it to your husband with a sly grin, “This should keep you occupied until I get back then.” You waved to him and plucked the basket off of the table, slipping it onto the crook of your arm and heading for the door of the large mansion.
“I am always surprised by your cruelty,” Diluc muttered as he took a bite of the berry and watched you leave, pushing down his worry for you as you went.
~
Stepping carefully down the muddy path into the forest, your eyes bounced around the trees hoping to spot the familiar head of grey hair. You knew the path through Wolvendom like the back of your hand after all your time coming to visit Razor, the young boy has even made sure to show you the best paths to take to your meeting spot to keep you the safest. You would be lying to yourself if you said you didn’t care deeply for the boy, you had taken him under your wing and had done everything in your power to help him learn to trust humans, even if he was still quite wary of Diluc.
Diluc had taken just as much time to come around to the young boy as he had taken to come around to him, both of them still cautious of one another.
Cautious, but trusting.
You were proud of both of them.
When you finally reached the spot where Razor usually met you, you found that he was not there yet. You knew he wouldn’t forget what day it was and figured he was just running late, so, you walked toward a large stone at the base of the rocky cliff and sat down on top of it to wait for the boy.
The fabric of your cloak spread out on the stone around you like a fan as you placed the basket onto the ground beside you and crossed one leg over your knee. Your fingers drummed against the side of your leg as your eyes moved around the clearing, the soft blue glow of the lamp grass sitting in the shade of the trees at the edge of the clearing catching your eye. Looking up at the path which led deeper into the forest to look for Razor one last time, you sighed and hopped off of the rock and moved toward the lamp grass.
You spent the next twenty minutes or so moving about the tree line and gathering various plants and flowers that you saw—mostly lamp grass and wolfhook—before you heard footsteps coming from the trees. You stood and looked toward where the sound had come from, your eyes narrowing when you saw no one.
“Razor? That you?” You called out, your voice heard by only the trees.
Another footstep sounded, followed by several more.
Too many to be human, and far too may to be alone.
Your hand moved to your hip where you kept a dagger—a wedding gift from Diluc—and tightened your grip on the leather wrapped handle.
Two sets of glowing gold eyes peered at you from the trees, a deep rumbling growl flowing out and causing you to freeze, your grip on the knife faltering for a single moment.
You were forced back to reality when two large stony hounds lunged out of the tree line and rushed toward you, broken howls echoing from the throat of one of them while the other began circling you, growling under its breath. Your hand shook as you raised your blade, keeping your eyes on the one in front of you while trying to keep your attention on the one stalking around you, a shiver went down your spine at the sound of the creature’s growling.
Both of the hounds came to a halt, one on either side of you, their eyes still locked on you as you glanced toward the path which led deeper into the forest.
While you knew it was a terrible idea to try and run, you also knew you had no chance of beating them if you stood your ground and fought.
You took off running, still clutching your knife tightly as you hurried up the path without looking back.
The sound of the hounds chasing after you only urged you to run faster, your panicked breathing downing out their howls as your feet thudded against the hard ground.
The feeling of sharp claws tearing onto your arm caused you to scream as you were pushed to the side, your shoulder slamming into a tree before you fell to the ground. A pained whimper broke from your lips as you rolled onto your back and clutched your bleeding arm, pain sprouting in your temple from where it connected with the ground.
Blood seeped through your fingers and stained your skin as the two creatures approached you, their eyes seeming to glow brighter and more menacingly as they floated in front of you. Your chest heaved as you reached for our knife where it lay in the grass, your bloody hand inches away from wrapping around the hilt when the sound of lightning crackled through the air, the hairs on your arms standing up straight as the scent of ozone filled your nostrils.
You barely had time to look where the sound had came from before a flash of purple electricity slammed into both of the creatures, preventing them from getting any closer to you.
A flash of grey moved in front of you before a familiar form stood in front of you, between you and the raging creatures.
“Away!” Razor yelled, his sword raised, electricity sparking down the length of the blade, “Away now!” He swung the blade sending the electricity shooting out toward the two creatures to push them back even further.
You watch wide eyed as lightning danced along Razor’s arms and into his blade as he rushed forward and attacked the two hounds. The cold air bit at your wound as you shifted your shoulders and leaned back against the tree you had been tossed into, the sickening smell of copper filling your mind as the warm liquid dripped from the small cut on your forehead.
Electricity flashed through the air in front of you as Razor moved around the clearing, making sure to keep the stony beasts attention on himself and away from you.
You had never seen him fight, never seen how effective he was in a fight.
He was raised by wolves, and wolves protected their own, you were sure that had something to do with the pure rage you saw in the boy’s eyes as he swung at the hounds.
You were one of his own.
Lupical. That’s what he had called you once.
Family.
Before you knew it, the creatures were gone, one of them lay dead on the ground at Razor’s feet while the other ran away into the woods. Razor stood in front of the dead hound with his hand clenching tight around the hilt of his claymore, his shoulders hunched and chest heaving as he worked to catch his breath.
“Razor?” You spoke up, your voice quiet as you watched the boy with wary eyes, “What were those things?”
His head turned so he could look at you over his shoulder, “Rifthounds. Bad monsters.”
Your brows knit together, confusion mixing with the pain on your face, “Rifthounds? I thought they were all dead?”
Razor ignored your words as he sheathed his sword on his back and walked toward you, his ruby colored eyes fixed on your injured arm, “You are hurt.”
He knelt in front of you and looked at your arm, reaching for it to pull your hand away from the wound causing you to wince slightly as his hand connected with your arm.
“They hurt you.” He muttered, pulling his hand away from you and looking down at the blood on his finger tips, “I was not quick enough, so they kill my brothers and sisters, now they hurt you.”
“Brothers and sisters? They have killed wolves?”
“Rifthounds. They are bad.” Razor looked down at his hands.
Your heart broke for the boy, the wolves were his family and these creatures had killed some of them.
“I am… Sorry.” He looked back up at you and blinked, for a moment you swore you saw tears in his eyes.
“Razor.” You wiped your hand on your leg, cleaning off as much of the blood as you could before reaching forward and taking his scarred hand, “This was not your fault, and neither was what happened to the wolves, understand?” You squeezed his hand, “You kept me safe, you saved my life.”
He squeezed your hand back, tight.
“Can you help me up?”
Razor was careful not to tug on your injured arm as he helped you to your feet, his hands pulling away from you the second you were on your feet, “Can you walk?” He looked up at you and pressed his brows together.
You stood still for a moment, waiting for the spinning in your head to settle before nodding slowly, “I think so, just a bit dizzy.”
Razor blinked, tilting his head to the side, “Dizzy?” He said the word slowly to make sure he was pronouncing it correctly, though he still cringed at the foreign word coming from his mouth.
You often forgot that Razor’s English was rough, he had gotten much better at speaking but some words still confused him.
“Dizzy, it’s like when everything around you feels like its spinning, so it makes it feel like your falling over even though you’re standing still.” You carefully explained the meaning of the word to him while holding onto your bleeding arm once again, the dizziness in your head subsiding slightly by the time you were finished speaking.
The boy thought for a moment before speaking again, “Dizzy.” He nodded, “I will help you walk, so you do not fall.”
Razor helped you slip your good arm over his shoulders, the awkward position proving to be much easier since the two of you were close in height, Razor standing just a few inches shorter than you.
“Thank you Razor.” You smiled over at the boy, “I’m sure Diluc is worried sick about me.”
The two of you began walking, Razor guiding you through the forest down the dirt path, “Diluc… Your mate?”
“Husband. My husband.” You corrected him.
~
One thing you had been right about, was Diluc.
He was indeed worried out of his mind.
As soon as he noticed you had been gone longer than you said you would, he grabbed his sword and coat and set off toward Wolvendom.
His worry was only amplified when he saw you walking out of the forest leaning on Razor, blood staining your arm and forehead.
The sound of Diluc’s voice calling your name earned your attention and caused you to lift your head up and look in his direction. The look of complete and utter concern was all you could see on his face as he ran toward you and Razor, his eyes bouncing from your bleeding arm to the cut on your forehead.
“What happened?” He came to a halt, his hand immediately moving to take you from Razor and into his arms so he could get a better look at the damage that had been done to you.
You turned your arm so he could see the claw marks, the strips cut into the fabric of your shirt by the hounds claws, “Rifthounds.”
Diluc’s eyes went even wider, if that was even possible, “Rifthounds? They were hunted to extinction.” He looked up from your arm to meet your eyes.
“They clearly didn’t get that memo.” You let out a dry laugh, “Razor protected me, killed one of them too.”
Diluc turned his attention to the boy standing a few steps behind you, he had remained quiet ever since Diluc showed up and you knew it was because it was still cautious of him.
“Razor.” Diluc kept his arm around you as he spoke to him, “You have my thanks for keeping my wife safe.” He dipped his head slightly, a show of respect to the boy, ”I am in your debt.”
Razor stayed silent for a moment, looking from you to Diluc before speaking, “She is my friend. I protect my friends.”
“Will you be alright out here Razor?” You asked quietly while leaning heavily onto Diluc, your head once again spinning as you dropped it onto his shoulder.
He closed his eyes and nodded, “I must hunt the Rifthounds. They must pay for hurting my family.” He looked back at you when he said family.
Diluc opened his mouth to say something, but instead held his tongue and looked down at you, gently picking you up bridal style.
“I’m going to get her back to the winery so I can get her arm looked at.” He cleared his throat, “If you ever need anything Razor, and I mean anything, you come to us and we will help you.” He told the boy.
Razor nodded, dipping his head to Diluc before looking to you, “Be safe Lupical.”
“Thank you Razor.”
The three of you parted ways, Razor running back into the forest to hunt down the Rifthounds while Diluc carried you back toward the winery.
~
The entire trek back to your home, Diluc was silent, which wasn’t uncommon for him. But you knew his mind was working on over drive thinking of all the things that could have happened to you.
Instead of pushing for him to talk to you, you dropped your head to the side and leaned against his chest, closing your eyes and listening to his steady heartbeat as he carried you home.
Now, you were sitting on the large bed in the master bedroom with Diluc stood in front of you, carefully bandaging the claw marks on your arm.
Diluc’s attention was solely on tending to your wounds, the cut on your forehead was his first task and when he was done with that he moved onto your arm, helping you out of your shirt so he could see it better.
“I know you want to say ‘I told you so’, so just say it.” You broke the silence between you and your husband making him pause his actions and sigh.
The bandage he was wrapping around your arm was cut off with scissors and tucked under the edge to keep it in place before he walked away from you and grabbed one of his white shirts from where it sat folded on the desk.
“what if you had been killed?” That was not what you were expecting him to say as he handed you the shirt and knelt in front of you, refusing to meet your eyes.
You reached forward to place your hand on the side of his face, lifting it up so he was forced to look at you, “But I wasn’t, Razor protected me.”
“And if he hadn’t been there? Then what?”
You went still, your mouth clamping shut and your hand falling from his face to your lap. Turning your gaze to your lap, you sighed and breathed in a long breath before speaking, “I won’t stop going up there, Razor needs me. I’m one of the only friends he’s got Diluc.” You traced the lines on your upturned palm with your eyes, “I worry about him being up there all alone.”
Diluc grabbed your hand, squeezing it tight and whispering your name to get you to look up at him, “I’m not asking you to stop going up there, I know how much that boy means to you. I could never ask you to stop going up there, dearest.” His calloused hand cupped the side of your face, “I’m asking you to let me come with you from now on.”
“Really?”
His free hand went to the other side of your face, both of his thumbs now rubbing your cheekbones, “Helping that kid makes you happy, and I want you to be happy. But I also want you to be safe. So, I’ll come up with you from now on so I know that you’re safe.”
A grin made it’s way onto your face, “He’s growing on you, isn’t he?”
Diluc froze, a pink tint blooming along his cheeks as he looked away from you, “He is not.”
You laughed, the sound echoing around the room as Diluc stood and moved away from you, “He is!” You stood carefully, clutching the white shirt in your hand as you walked after him, “You have a soft spot for the wolf boy!”
You grabbed a hold of Diluc’s arm and pulled yourself toward him, your chest pressing against his as you looked up and him and grinned.
“Admit it.” You stood on your tiptoes and moved your lips close to his, “Admit I’m right.”
Diluc closed the gap between you both, kissing you slowly and cutting off your grin.
“You’re wrong.” He whispered as he pulled back and walked away from you, leaving you standing in the middle of the bedroom.
“Where are you going?”
Walking toward the door, Diluc sighed, “Going to hunt some Rifthounds with the wolf boy.”
You watched him walk out of he bedroom before it dawned on you.
“Ha! I was right!”
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midnightechoes · 1 year
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So this week is going to go down as maybe the most sapphic week in animation history. It’s going to have a great case, there are so many sapphic shows or shows with prominent sapphic couples airing this week.
Don’t know what I’m talking about? Here’s a quick rundown:
Yuri Is My Job!
Premiering on Crunchyroll on April 6th.
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Yuri is My Job! is based on a yuri manga of the same name. It follows high schooler Hime, who cares deeply about her image as sweet and helpful, even though she’s actually selfish. She accidentally injures the manager of a cafe, and agrees to work there to make up for it. But this is no ordinary cafe, it’s like a cafe dinner theater where all the waitresses play characters from a fictional high school and act out skits for the patrons. Hime’s character is supposed to be in love with one of the other waitresses’ character, but she starts actually falling for the girl. Only problem is, behind the scenes the other waitress seems to hate her.
Yeah, that sounds kind of bonkers! I can already see the story now, Hime starting out playing a role, and eventually having to legitimately earn the love of Mitsuki.
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Birdie Wing: Golf Girls’ Story
Season 2 premiering on Crunchyroll on Friday, April 7th
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Ah Birdie Wing. If you saw season one, you know just how delightful wacky this show is. It follows the stories of Eve, a golfer that plays in illegal underground golf matches for the mob, and Aoi, a golf prodigy and the new sensation of the golf world. Their lives crash into each other and the chemistry is overwhelming and immediate.
Technically Eve and Aoi aren’t canon as of the end of s1, but it’s hard to imagine that the show isn’t heading in that direction. It makes no effort to hide the fact that these two are into each other.
I’m so excited to see what season 2 has in store for these two. Birdie Wing is just a delightfully weird little show.
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Princess Principal: Crown Handler Chapter 3
Premieres in theaters in Japan on Friday, April 7th
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Alright, so this won’t be useful to a lot of people reading this, as this is only premiering in Japan this weekend. But I wanted to mention it because (a) it’ll come over to the US sometime this year, and (b) Princess Principal is awesome and I want to promote it when I can.
Princess Principal was a 12 episode series that aired in 2017, and Crown Handler is a six-part sequel OVA series.
In a nutshell, Princess Principal is a steampunk spy thriller set in an alternate universe European kingdom that has been divided by a wall, Berlin-style. It follows a team of spies, masquerading as high school girls, as they try to prevent the two sides from going to war.
I know, “why is this on a list of gay shit?” Well, because it is. Two of the main characters, Ange and Princess Charlotte, are big-time into each other and while the original series does the anime thing of “we’re only allowed to go so far with this”, the OG series has a lot of intimate scenes between the two and does end *SPOILERS* with the two of them sitting on the beach together while holding hands.
And perhaps Crown Handler, being made years later, can finally take their relationship farther.
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RWBY Volume 9
Volume 9 episode 8 airing on Crunchyroll on Saturday, April 8th
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RWBY has been ongoing, and the current volume has been airing since February, but there’ll be another episode this Saturday. Right now RWBY is in the middle of dealing with a lot of trauma, BUT, the bees are canon and dating so every episode of RWBY is now officially gay. So says me.
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The Owl House: Watching and Dreaming
 Series finale airing on the Disney Channel on Saturday, April 8th
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I’M NOT READY TO LOSE THIS SHOW! 😭
*ahem* The third and final season 3 special airs on Saturday, and promises to be mega emotional and super gay.
I’m grateful that this show had a chance to finish its story, something a lot of sapphic media doesn’t get to do. But I am still pissed about it getting cancelled in the first place simply because it didn’t fit their “brand” (read: this show is too gay for Disney).
But I just know that Dana and her team put together a sensational finale.
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Mobile Suit Gundam: the Witch From Mercury
Season 2 premiering on Crunchyroll on Sunday, April 9th.
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Affectionately called G-Witch, season 1 of this show was a revelation in the fall. It follows the story of Suletta Mercury, precious cinnamon roll and the most talented mobile suit pilot around, and Miorine Rembran, daughter of the president of the Benerit Group, a mega-corporation that has massive political power.
The show revolves around a school that’s mostly full of the children of powerful people. And then there’s Suletta, a nobody that just wants to be a normal girl and have a normal school life but through a series of events ends up in a mobile suit duel that she easily wins, earning her the title of Holder, which makes her Miroine’s groom.
At first, the two treat the arrangement as a business arrangement, both seeing practical value in this arranged engagement. But it’s obvious that Miorine is actually pretty into Suletta from the start, and we see Suletta slowly falling for Miorine too.
G-Witch is incredible. Part awesome mecha fights, part political intrigue, part romance between two useless girls who’d rather die that admit their actual feelings.
I am SO EXCITED for season 2!
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LGBTQ media hasn’t had it great as of late, with a ton of frustrating cancellations and it almost feeling like Hollywood is going backwards in terms of its commitment to giving us space to tell our stories.
But animation, both in the US and in Japan, seems to be making great strides, being our light in the dark.
All five of these shows are airing episodes this week, and Crown Handler will be in theaters this week and on streaming/blu-ray later this year. RWBY has been airing for weeks and its been the gayest volume yet. the Magical Revolution of the Reincarnated Princess and the Genius Young Lady just finished airing and was wonderfully sapphic. I’m In Love With the Villainess is scheduled to air sometimes this year. And just maybe we might get Arcane season 2 before the end of the year.
I’m excited for how sapphic and yuri animation is progressing, I hope it keeps going forward.
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