#He might be done HOPEFULLY before the end of this month | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

jyoongim · 3 months

Note

THE WAY U WRITE THE OLD RED DEMON MAN IS JUST SO NEKEKDKEOWB

Might I just add onto the seemingly continuous alastor requests. I'd love to see Alastor x Reader where reader is in heat and Al finds it pathetic but takes pity on them and helps anyway bc like poor thing can't even get their own instincts in control they're obviously hopeless

warnings: 18+!!!NSFW

You thought when you died you would be rid of hormones.

Periods were a pain while living, but this is was worst.

When you were alive, your periods plagued you with mood swings, random cravings, and pain.

Now that you were dead, you didn’t experience the dreadful red flood and raging mood swings; no. Now all you felt was unbelievably horny and needy.

And you hated it.

You usually carried yourself with confidence and elegance.

You usually liked to help around the hotel and were generally friendly with everyone.

You grimaced as you woke up to feel just how drenched your panties were. I really need to stock up on new underwear you thought as you tossed the ruined panties into the hamper.

You usually spent your heats alone and could hide in a hole until you felt normal again. You usually could control yourself well enough til you had enough free time to ease the tension between your legs.

Or until you found a poor sinner.

Weeeeellll that was hard when you lived in a hotel with a ton of shit to do. You really didn’t want to hear Angel’s jabs as you dragged some unfortunate soul to endear your sex rage.

You sighed, hopefully you could get through the next few days without embarrassing yourself completely.

So far so good you thought as you went about your day doing whatever activity Charlie had you do with the group.

Every touch and scent didn’t send your cunt into a tingling frenzy; yes you had to change your panties a few times but nothing crazy.

That was until you were around Alastor.

Your body practically buzzed whenever the tall red demon was in your vicinity.

You first chalked it up to that it was because you did found him attractive and simply thought it would go away.

But your cunt begged a differ.

You squirmed a bit on the couch as Alastor took a seat beside you, clenching your thighs to ease the uncomfortable throbbing.

It didn’t help that he smelled amazing.

Alastor smelled like evergreens how y’all ever smelled Christmas pine??? That shit is delicious!!!!

And you didn’t realized you had took a deep inhale of him until he turned to you

”Is everything alright my dear?” He asked, eyebrows raised.

fuck how were you going to tell him you wanted to bury your nose into his neck and just SNIFF?

“O-oh I’m f-fine…i-its just you smelled nice?” You wanted to facepalm.

He blinked at you before letting out a laugh “OOooh why thank you my dear” that shit eating grin widened, voice dropping a slight octave“I must smell very enticing if you’re sniffing at me” his eyes narrowed slightly.

A shiver ran through your body and you swear you were leaking through onto the couch. You wanted to die of embarrassment.

“I-I just never noticed before that’s all” You said shrugging, trying to ignore the fact that his very voice was affecting you.

Charlie had ended whatever the hell you were doing and you quickly made your way to your room, causing some confusion.

You were usually a social butterfly with the gang. You never not chat away with Angel as he told the wild shit he did on set.

“Has got to be that time of the month” Angel commented as you almost sprinted out the room. Charlie and Vaggie gave confused looks ”what?” He sighed “You know…” nope not a clue.

”She was a human remember? Every so often her pussy basically shreds itself to bits”

Charlie gasped “So she’s hurt? Shouldn’t we do something?” Angel laughed,shaking his head “Nah we can’t help. But she'll be fine. Just give her a few days and she'll be normal again”

Alastor was in the background listening, the smile on his face sharpened, you weren’t hurt or bleeding, but there was definitely something that could be done.

You snarled as your vibrator died and tossed it. You groaned as your clit continued to throb. You had thought four orgasms would have did the trick but nope you still had the irritating itch.

You didn’t own a dildo because it was pointless.

it wasn’t the real thing.

You wanted to cry. This was your first heat while you’ve been at the hotel and you didn’t just want to drag a stranger here.

You had more control than that.

At least that’s what you thought.

You had locked yourself in your room as you tore your room to bits. The walls were shredded, pillows and sheets drenched in slick and your poor toy was in pieces.

Panting, you curled in a corner and tugged at your hair, squeezing your eyes tight as tears began to pool in your eyes.

You hated this.

You hated how it felt like you didn’t even feel like yourself.

Hated that you couldn’t even control your own damn bodily function.

Hated how your body desperately wanted to be filled.

You would give anything to make this horrid feat of yours go away.

“I would have never thought to see you in such a state my dear”

You froze at the voice and jerked your head to the source.

Alastor.

He was standing at the entrance of your bedroom, a smirk on his face as he took in the state of your room.

”I must say, it. Is rather entertaining to see your lack of control” he said as he approached your curled form.

He crouched down, feigning a concerned look before a clawed hand seized your hair and wrenched your face til your noses were bumping against each other.

”did you think I couldn’t smell you?” He growled “You smell just like a bitch in heat”

You whimpered as his lips ghosted over yours “I-I’m sorry”

His scent was surrounding you. It was a drug. Assaulting your every nerve with each breath you took.

He smelled so good

please

”Please” you whispered as your cunt buzzed, tingling from his clos proximity and in hopes he would have mercy on you.

Alastor sucked his teeth at you. What a pitiful thing you were…

With a deep breathe, he stood and walked over to your ruined bed and sat. You watched as he sat his mic down and removed his coat. Yanking at his tie, he unbuttoned his shirt and looked over at you with narrowed eyes “Well? Do you want to continue to ruin your furnishings or do you wish to satisfy that brazen desire of yours?”

He widened his legs and your eyes honed in on how he unbuckled his pants.

Your throat tightened and you found yourself crawling over to him, no regard that you were naked.

Kneeling between his legs, your hands soothed up his thighs as your rubbed your head against his crotch.

Alastor lifted your chin for your eyes to meet his. Your eyes were blown out and you winced as his grip tightened.

”I pity you my dear, reduced to wanton whore, but don’t fret…Ill help you through your heat” a thumb ran over your pouty lip.

Your cunt clenched around nothing at his words.

You damn near drooled as he adjusted himself to pull his cock free from its restraints.

It was big, in both length and girth. It slapped against your face, causing you to hum at the weight of it.

You nuzzled it, nose gliding along his length before softly pressing kissed along it. When you came to his mushroom tip, you didn’t hesitate to suck at it. Alastor sighed as you gave the head of his cock kitten licks.

Head clouded with desire, you slowly bobbed your head along his length, taking him whole as you gagged once you reached the hilt.

You eased him out your throat and with a sickening pop, you admired as his spit-covered cock shined. You opted to jerk him off slowly as you buried your nose in his ball, inhaling his scent.

Alastor’s hand found your hair and guided you away from his cock, bringing you to climb up his body, until your smoldering heat was rubbing against his cock as he pressed kisses to your shoulder and neck. A gasp tore from your throat as he nipped at your jaw.

”On fours my dear”

Clumsily, you scrambled to follow his instruction. You must not have been to his liking because he pressed your head til your cheek was flat to the bed, back in a deep low arch, thighs pressed to your stomach and spreaded wide with your ass and cunt exposed to the air.

You would have blushed in embarrassment if you weren’t so turned on.

A hand glided down your back, causing you to shiver and then jolt as a harsh slap was planted on your ass, before it soothed over the burning cheek.

Alastor kneaded your ass before sliding his fingers down to your cunt.

Your slit was swollen and your clit, puffy with need.

You were dripping.

He dipped a finger inside you, testing how wet you were.

Soppy.

He added a second, your cunt greedily welcomed his fingers with ease, giving into resistance.

He chuckled “What a greedy cunt, sucking in my fingers like a cock”

You whined when he took his fingers out, already missing the feel of something inside you.

Alastor took his cock and rubbed it against your cunt, coating himself in your slick.

”I am going to fuck you to your little sinful heart desires and you are going to be grateful of everything I give you. You are going to take every bit of my cum until it spills from this cunt and then again and again until I have bred you so thoroughly. Do you understand slut?”

You were breathing heavily, trembling in excitement.

With a single, sharp thrust he filled your cunt, earning a soft cry from you.

”Do you understand?”he hissed through clenched teeth.

”Y-Yes A-Alastor”. you whimpered, eyes clenched shut in pleasure.

”Good girl”

He drew back and thrusted into you again

And again

He had set a slow, but rough pace. Thrusting his cock deep into the soft warmth of your cunt with each drag.

Soft moans filled the air as he buried his cock inside you.

It felt so good.

He reached depths your finger couldn’t quite reach.

And it was amazing.

”A-Ala-stor Aah! Aaah! Hah!” You pushed your hips against his, mewling loudly as he grinned his cock into you.

”Youre pathetic ” He laughed, eyes watching his cock disappeared inside you, giving you a hard thrust at his words.

”Nothing but pathetic slut who can’t control their own body”

His grip on your hips pulled you flushed against him, making you take him til his balls was nestled against your slit.

”You probably would have spreaded your legs for any poor sinner, just wanting to be fucked dumb” Your body rippled as his thrusts got harder.

Your cunt only got wetter.

He noticed as he seemed to sink even deeper into you, as if your cunt loosened to welcome him

”oh? I bet you would have liked that wouldn’t you? So out of sorts with need that you would have just anyone bred this cunt”

He growled at the squelching noises from your cunt, you shook your head in denial.

No. No you wouldn’t haven’t done something like that.

”N-no I-I wouldn’t-” You cried out as his finger ghosted over your swollen clit.

”You would have been happy to bend over and offer your cunt to anyone, as long as you had a cock fill you” Alastor continued before a cruel, deep laugh erupted from him

”But instead you sought me out. I had no intention in satisfying you, but what a gentleman would i had been if I ignored a lady in need?” You felt him lean over, hips never missing a beat as he sunk his teeth into your shoulder.

”Oooh how fortunate you are my dear”

You were suddenly flipped onto your back. Hair sprawled around you like a halo, your chest heaving as he pushed your knees to your chin.

Your lidded eyes watching as he slide his cock between your pussy lips, bumping your clit. He grabbed your wrists, using them as leverage as he thrusted back into you, the new angle making your throw your head back with a broken cry

”FuuuuuUccckk Ah Ah AH!” His hips dug into the underside of your ass as he pounded your cunt.

Alastor hadn’t lost composure the entire time he fucked you.

He watched as you fell apart, your hips wiggling to accommodate to his harsh administrations.

Your cunt took him so good. A white, creamy ring formed at his base as he scraped against that sponges nerve inside you.

You welcomed him gratefully. Letting him wrench pleasurable sounds from your pretty lips.

Pushing your raised legs apart, he lowered his weight on you as he slammed his lips on yours, swallowing your moans. Your tongues danced as he rocked into your body.

The sounds of him ruining your cunt pushed him to fulfill your primal desire.

You felt that familiar blaze of heat take over your body as Alastor fucked short rapid thrusts into you.

Every brush of his abdomen against your clit had your cunt going haywire.

You were going to cum.

Alastor was going to make you cum.

You moaned at the thought

You were gonna cum on his cock

And he was gonna breed you

Breed your soppy cunt

and you were going to let him

”please….” You whined into his mouth

Fuck the very thought had your body buzzing.

”please what?” he purred

Your head was reeling, foggy with the need to be filled.

A hand wrapped around your throat, squeezing

“What are you begging me for slut? Hmm?” His strokes were hitting harder and deeper.

”You want me to breed your cunt? You want to me to fill you up so good that all you’ll ever think is how my cum belongs inside you? What do the little slut want?”

Yes you wanted all of it.

You wanted him to fuck you so good, you wouldn’t even think of wanting another cock from his.

You wanted him to fill your cunt to the brim and then fuck it back inside.

You wanted him to breed you like the little slut you were.

To breed you til he had his fill.

Your instincts had practically took over, fuck sanity.

”Mhmm! I want it. I want you to Ah! I want you to fill me with your cum! Please please breed me Alastor” You whined, feeling your belly clench as your orgasm hung over you, promising sweet relief.

The hand around your throat, tightened causing you to gasp as he spoke into your ear, voice deep and purring

”Youre gonna make yourself cum on my cock slut”

your hand flew to your clit to flick fast circles on the bud.

Alastor’s thrusts quickened, growls pouring from his lips

”Who’s a filthy little slut?”

”M-Me”

”Whos a pathetic slut that’s gonna take my cum?”

”Me!”

”Fucking slut gonna let be breed her dumb”

A sob tore from you as your orgasm washed over you, he fucked you as you milked him, hips angled to thrusts so deep you’re sure your cunt had molded into the shape of his cock

”hah hah aaah fuuucckk fuck fuck Al-Alastor!”

You saw white as your mouth opened in a silent scream only for him to swallow the whine in your throat.

”That’s it you pathetic slut take it. Take my cum. That’s a good girl. Let me breed this sweet cunt cher” your hips raised as he sunk into you and with a deep groan, he cummed into your spasming cunt, making sure to thrust deep enough he hit your cervix as he painted your walls white.

Whether conscious or by instinct, you gave him a ditzy smile, eyes glazed over as you slowly rubbed your clit, whimpering. Holding eye contact with him, a soft pout graced your lips

“Again”

You truly were a pathetic, needy little thing.

But don’t worry pretty Doe, Alastor’s going to make sure you

satisfied and stuffed to your heart’s content

It was going to be very interesting for the next 36 hours…

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gutsby · 5 months

Text

Grow a Uterus and We'll Talk

Pairing: Daryl Dixon x Reader

Summary: Daryl has a bad case of baby fever, to put it lightly. You’re practically terrified of children. Rick lends you his kid for the night, and together, you come to learn that parenthood might not be the worst thing in the world. Even easier than baking muffins, one might say.

Warnings: Fluff, fluff, fluff, an absurd amount of baby rabies, and fluff. Don’t blame me if y’all get pregnant.

“You lay one finger on me and I’ll bite it off, Dixon.”

You’d done the same damn dance once a month, every month for the past two years, and you were starting to grow annoyed with your boyfriend’s advances.

“Would it really be tha’ bad if we tried it out…just once?” Daryl huffed.

“I don’t know,” you answered, shrugging, “Grow a uterus and we’ll talk.”

The archer playfully lunged at you from across the couch, but you easily side-stepped and took residence at the far end of the room. You reached for a stiletto to throw at his head if he came any closer.

“Still on the baby business, huh?” Carol called as she strode past the living room toward the kitchen.

“Ya know we’d make some damn cute crotch goblins,” Daryl yelled back. You rolled your eyes.

“That isn’t for you to decide, Daryl,” Carol’s voice seemed to toughen, even give him a scolding look from a distance away, “And if you knock her up before she’s ready, I’ll string you up by your balls and feed you to the walkers.”

The woman did not fuck around—and you loved her for it. Presently, you stuck your tongue out at Daryl as if to say, ‘See? I told you so’ and the man simply scowled. Flopped down on the couch and propped his dirty boots up on the coffee table.

“‘Course I wouldn’t try if ye weren’t ready,” he grumbled, “Jus’ wanted you ta consider it.”

You joined him on the couch and nudged his feet off the table.

“Is that why you’ve been parading every baby in Alexandria in my face for the past six months? Hoping I’d ‘consider’ things a little more?” you quipped, raising both eyebrows.

Daryl paused a beat, seemed to chew on his thoughts for a moment or two. Then he offered you a sheepish grin and said,

“Rick and Michonne really need the free childcare.”

You were itching to grab that high heel again. Before you could, though, a sound thundered through your foyer and the front door was thrown open wide. In the blink of an eye, Rick had stumbled through your entryway, passed off his infant to Daryl like a sack of potatoes, and raced back to the door.

“Rick, what the fuck?!” you shouted before he could escape.

“Date night,” Rick answered in a ragged breath, gripping the door frame while he glanced over at Daryl.

Daryl smiled and held Judith to his chest like she might’ve been the most precious thing in the universe. You narrowed your eyes.

“He put you up to this?” you asked, tipping your chin in Daryl’s direction.

Rick didn’t hesitate; he said that he had. Out of the corner of your eye, you could see Daryl shooting daggers at his friend. Promptly, Judith pawed at your boyfriend’s stubbled cheeks and babbled.

Sensing the tension in the air, Carol gathered her belongings and contemplated baking her bread elsewhere—or at least give you and Daryl some space to talk. She started toward the door,

“Walk a lady home?” she said to Rick.

Rick shot her a curious look but accepted anyway. Casting a sidelong glance to the man on the couch and the woman who was currently staring him down with an irate look in her eyes—you—he quickly surmised it was in his best interest to leave. Hopefully Judith was too young to catch on to any curse words that might be hurled in the next several minutes.

“Be good, you three,” Rick gave his parting words before following Carol outside. The door crashed shut behind them.

As soon as it had, you were back on your feet and traipsing out of the room.

“Come on,” Daryl whined.

He followed your steps into the kitchen with Judith still cradled in his arms. There was a pregnant pause as you rifled through your cabinets, wordlessly searching for some ingredients to bake whatever pastry it would take to get your mind off the discomfiture of this situation—you decided on muffins, at length.

It wasn’t like you hated babies. You loved their big bald heads and their pudgy, wobbling legs. You loved the way they giggled and smiled and dribbled food all over their fronts. You didn’t even mind the thought of pregnancy; carrying a pint-sized redneck in your belly for nine months wouldn’t be the worst thing that could happen.

It was the world that frightened you most. The thought of a newborn child’s slim chances at surviving a place like this. The fear of that alone was enough to have you fighting that dreadful outcome, tracking your cycle like a hound and fighting Daryl off every month when you knew that day was coming. You’d been pretty successful thus far. But by the looks of the man across the kitchen beaming down at the baby, you weren’t sure how long that winning streak would last.

“Wanna hold her?”

“No.”

“Wanna do her hair?”

“She hasn’t got any.”

Daryl shot you a look of mock indignation and stroked Judith’s head.

“You kiddin’? Little Ass Kicker’s gotta have at least fifteen strands by now,” he retorted, tugging at the short blond tufts as if to prove a point.

Judith smiled a toothless grin up at her Uncle Daryl. You all but had to leave the room to stifle the sounds of your reproductive organs screaming, 'Give that man a baby! NOW!' You clenched your stomach and turned away to start preparing the pans.

Daryl perched Judith on his lap and starting puffing out his cheeks. The infant shrieked with laughter. You assembled the flour, sugar, baking powder and salt together on the counter and sought after a bowl.

“Dada, Dada!” Judith chanted. Trying in earnest to say ‘Daryl’ but ending up sounding like she was calling him dad. You dropped the mixing bowl on the countertop with a clatter.

“Daryl, kiddo, Dar-yl,” your boyfriend tried to teach her, enunciating his name a couple more times.

“Dada!” the little tyke howled again as she fisted his shirt in her fingers.

Milk and oil and— eggs. Where are the eggs?

You tore through the fridge and wanted to sob into the shelves with the sheer force of delirium coursing through your veins. Damn you, Charles Darwin, I am not in a place to be procreating right now.

You tried turning your mind to other things—cooking, crying, contemplating the course of human evolution—but when you turned back with the carton of eggs in hand, you almost sent the dozen of them crashing straight to the floor.

Daryl was pinching her chubby cheeks.

If you weren’t so violently inclined to breed a whole new gaggle of progeny with this man, you probably would’ve chucked an egg at his head.

You sighed as you dropped the last of your cooking supplies on the surface of the kitchen island. You planted your hands flat on the granite and stared shamelessly at the two of them. Daryl was feigning ignorance, tapping Judith’s tiny pink nose with the tip of his finger and watching her giggle. When he leaned down to kiss the top of her head, you spun around to kick the oven door shut and cut the appliance off, immediately.

“Alright, you win, you bastard,” you said in a huff.

Daryl looked up from his present occupation, eyeing you innocently.

“What do you mean, hon—”

You cut him short, raising a finger to halt his speech before starting toward the door.

“Shut up,” you muttered as you headed for the stairs, “Meet me up there in five.”

Daryl deposited Judith in her portable playard in a second’s time and went scrambling up those steps faster than he ever had before.

Silently, speedily, he thanked every one of his lucky stars and his best friend, Rick Grimes.

#daryl dixon #daryl x reader #daryl dixon fluff #fluff #daryl dixon imagine #twd daryl #twd fanfiction #daryl dixon smut #the walking dead #daryl dixon one shot #twd imagine

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gimmeurtmi · 2 years

Text

puppy love — bang chan

pairing: bang chan x fem!reader

tags: established relationship, fluff, domestic bliss

warnings: swearing, fluff, puppy!, i wrote this at 4am.

inspo: buzzfeed’s puppy interview

notes: i couldn’t not write this, okay? chan with puppies was just everything i needed.

{ wc: 1925 }

“okay, don’t get mad,” your boyfriend said as soon as you stepped foot in your flat.

you barely even closed the door behind you yet he already stood in front of you, hands in front of his body as if to protect himself or stop you from lashing out on him.

“what did you do?” you asked slowly, looking around the house suspiciously.

“promise you won’t get mad first,” chan begged, hands now in a small prayer lock in front of his body. he even bowed his head slightly.

“i won’t get mad,” chan sighed in relief, “unless you did something incredibly stupid.”

“no, no, listen,” he tried to defend himself, “it’s not stupid! i thought it through!”

“channie,” you giggled, taking a step forward, “what did you do?”

“it was felix who suggested it and honestly, yeah, i agree with him so i don’t think it’s anything bad, really, i have a whole plan in place so you won’t have any stress about it and i promise i’ll take care of everything and—“

“—chris!” you yelled out, putting both your hands on his shoulder. “just tell me and stop freaking out before i even reacted.”

he smiled sheepishly at you before nodding his head.

“okay, so,” he took in a deep breath, “you know how we had an interview with buzzfeed today?”

“sure,” you nodded, your mind blanking out of any possibilities for what your boyfriend might have done to make him react this way; too nervous to even confess what he did.

“anyway. we have a dog now.”

as if waiting for his cue, just as chan spoke those words, a small puppy ran into the room.

it was black and white, but you could only barely make out his fur as he zoomed around your living room from one end to the other, slipping and sliding on the floor, as if chasing an invisible foe.

“his name is maniac,” chan smiled, hopefully.

“oh, i can tell,” you chuckled, as maniac came over to you and jumped up your leg a few times in greeting.

you picked up the puppy, letting it squirm in your hold as he licked you and kicked his paws around your arms.

“so?” chan raised his eyebrows, his irresistible smile following. “what do you think?”

“no,” you said simply.

“what? why?” he exclaimed.

“chan, you’re never home,” you sighed, “who’s gonna take care of this little guy when you’re away and i’m working?”

“okay, so,” chan took his phone out, “here’s a list of the top ten dog sitters in our area.”

“chan—“

“—and here’s a number for a dog trainer as well, who can look after him when we’re both busy and maybe teach him some manners as well.”

“but—“

“—and until he’s fully trained i bought these puppy pads,” he pointed to the corner, where a white pad as big as maniac sat on the floor, “so he won’t make a mess. and if he ever does i will clean it up.”

“and when you’re not here?”

“i spoke to a cleaner and they’re fine with coming along to clean the house if that ever happens.”

so he did think it through.

“okay, but what about our trip to jeju island next month?” you raised your brows.

“i spoke to the airbnb and they said they accept animals with an extra charge which i already paid for. and the man suggested some nice dog friendly activities around the area as well.”

it was almost like maniac knew you were talking about him, about an exciting trip, and he started wagging his tail manically before he jumped out of your arms and started rushing around the table in quick circles.

“he needs to be neutered,” you pointed out.

“he has an appointment with a vet tomorrow afternoon for his shots and that as well.”

“you promised me we’re going shopping tomorrow,” you countered.

“felix is taking him after the appointment,” he assured you.

you purses your lips as you stared him down. you had no more objections to raise at him.

you knew your boyfriend, and he was never impulsive. he would’ve thought every scenario through before bringing the dog into the house.

you sighed.

chan did his best impression of maniac’s puppy eyes and fuck did it work.

“okay.”

“okay?” he nearly yelled.

“if you promise to keep up everything you just said,” you pointed a finger at him in warning.

“yes, yes! i promise!”

“and he’s not sleeping in our bed,” you warned.

“you want me all to yourself?” he smirked at you, stepping forward to plant a kiss on your cheek.

“shut up,” you giggled, as he planted more and more kisses on your skin.

chan wrapped his strong arms around your body, pulling you into a close hug before he released.

“okay now that you’re not mad, let’s go get some takeaway from that place you really like down the street,” chan raised his brows at you, dimples on full display, sparkles in his eyes. he knew you couldn’t resist him—and although the would never abuse that power—you both knew you weren’t going to get mad at him regardless of what he did.

you nodded at him, placed a small kiss on his cheek, and waited patiently as chan got the brand new lead he bought along with all the other things your new puppy might need.

chan had to chase maniac around the room three times before the puppy stood still for long enough for chan to click the lead onto the black collar maniac wore.

“maybe we should get him a green collar, so he can match with the song,” you suggested. chan giggled at you.

“we can buy him anything you want, my darling,” he promised, grabbing hold of maniac who was squirming around as he took his keys and wallet off the side table.

the pair of you started walking slowly to your destination, maniac’s lead secured around chain’s wrist as he shoved his hand into his black skinny jeans.

the weather was soothing, the warm air around you relieved slightly by a low breeze, and the sun was still a few hours away from setting. you could feel the hints of autumn in the air still.

the slow pace of your walk, chain’s outfit, the weather—it was all so reminiscent of your first date. chan took you for a walk down to the park where the pair of you sat down for a picnic and talked and talked and talked. he was wearing all black that day too, a plaid shirt tied around his waist. he later on confessed he only brought it along in case you were cold and needed another layer. he hasn’t cut that habit ever since.

your visit to jeju island was planned in order to celebrate two years together, so even the time of year was the same.

it felt like taking a walk in the past—the only difference now was the puppy running circles around you two, and the fact chan was your lockscreen and not the boy you were nervous about holding hands with.

because you could, because you wanted to, you bumped your hand against chan’s, the same way you did that night when you wanted to hold his hand but were too scared to initiate the contact.

when you bumped your knuckles together, chan giggled.

“i was just thinking about our first date, you know,” he mused, “you did that that night too.”

“only took you ten minutes to get my hint and hold my hand that night,” you rolled your eyes at him with a grin.

“i was building up the courage!” he defended, lacing your hands together in a calm familiarity. “you can’t just hold a pretty girl’s hand without preparing.”

“well, i hope you’re prepared for this,” you pulled on your interlocked hands, stopping chan’s walk, before you placed your free hand on his cheek. you pulled him in as you pressed your lips together. chan sighed into the kiss.

“nothing can prepare me for your kisses,” he confessed as you pulled away slightly, eyes still closed.

“even after two years?” you giggled.

“when we’re celebrating twenty years i still won’t be used to it,” he promised, inviting a small family of butterflies into your stomach.

your ears grew warm as you looked into chan’s face and the sparkle hiding in his brown eyes.

at that, maniac jumped up on your legs, urging he gets more of the attention.

so the pair of you resumed your walk, the lead long enough to let him explore while still comfortably within chan’s grasp.

you picked up the food and made your way back home, not wasting any time before devouring your favourite dish.

when dinner was done chan showed you how much food maniac should be having (according to google) and promised to ask the vet for the proper advice on that. once maniac was done eating (he reminded you of jeongin when he ate) the three of you decided on watching a movie.

chan wrapped a hand around your shoulders, inviting you to cuddle into his chest as you watched whatever new film netflix was suggesting first.

chan rubbed his hands up and down your arm, sneaking a kiss onto the top of your hair every now and then.

midway through the movie, maniac jumped on the bed, and you noticed he was holding something gray in his mouth.

he walked all the way over to you, and placed it on your lap. it was wolfchan.

“maniac!” you cooed, “where did you find him? i’ve been looking all over for him!”

it was clear from the way the puppy raised his eyebrows at you that he thought wolfchan was just a toy, and was waiting for you to throw it around so you two could play, but instead you tucked wolfchan safely under your arm.

maniac whined impatiently.

chan patted his lap a few times, his voice raising incredibly high as he told maniac to come sit down.

“good boy,” he said, going even higher, “she couldn’t sleep without him when i’m gone.”

maniac’s head turned 45 degrees to the side, as if he was failing to understand why chan would ever be gone. you’d get along well with maniac, you think.

“chan,” you said after a while, the three of you settled into a warm position. your hand was rubbing up and down the puppy’s fur after he settled down in your boyfriend’s lap.

“yeah?” he hummed before kissing your cheek.

“you said he isn’t gonna sleep in our bed.”

“we’re just cuddling, he’ll jumped down after,” chan promised.

halfway through the movie you dosed off—you realised this when you woke up at five in the morning with an urge to pee.

chan was wrapped around you and so you delicately peeled his hands off you. you were quite used to doing that after all this time.

maniac followed you out of the room, waited patiently—which you did not expect—and followed you back into bed once you were done, as if he was tasked with keeping you safe during the night.

he jumped onto the bed right after you climbed in and settled back into chan’s warm embrace.

he definitely didn’t tell maniac to get off the bed once the movie was over.

it was the only time chan ever broke one of his promises to you—but when you looked at maniac curled into a black and white ball at the edge of the bed, you decided you weren’t that mad about it anyway.

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eoieopda · 1 year

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reckless serenade (kth)

i’ve been trying to figure out exactly what it is i need // called up to listen to the voice of reason // and got the answering machine

Pairing: Kim Taehyung x Fem!Reader Type: One-Shot - Sequel to The Bad Thing drabble. Summary: Your husband hasn’t looked at you in months, but his co-worker, Kim Taehyung, can’t take his eyes off you. Word Count: 4K, with 2K+ being smut, lmao. Content: SMUT - 18+; Taehyung's POV; infidelity; reader's husband really is just The Worst; oral sex (m and f receiving); multiple orgasms; face-sitting; penetrative sex (p in v); tbh it doesn't explicitly state whether it's protected or unprotected sex, so??; moral quandaries; Taehyung gets his own fucking warning tbh. A/N: This Taehyung is back by popular demand. This picks up where the drabble left off, so go read that if you haven’t! Actual note and tags are at the end :)

You’d returned to the table separately, several minutes apart, to quell suspicion.

As it turned out, the subtlety hadn’t been unnecessary. Nobody batted an eye when Taehyung sat down after a prolonged absence; and, as expected, your husband’s lecherous gaze hadn’t left the waitress long enough to find you missing. So, when you’d slid back into the seat at Taehyung’s side, no one knew your dirty little secret.

Secrets. Plural.

Park Ji-won might never know that you’d just orgasmed thrice, only a few meters away behind an unlocked door. Or that Taehyung’s orgasm was still lingering where he left it, staining the inside of your little lace panties. Or that the wedding ring he’d bought for his pretty, young bride was still in Taehyung’s pocket, rolling between the fingers that now knew you inside and out.

Definitely not that you’d left that ring in Taehyung’s possession with the promise of retrieving it after dinner — if you even wanted that tacky thing back in the first place.

When the bill came, Taehyung’s co-workers — your husband included — whined like petulant fucking children that the twelve bottles of liquor they’d consumed were fully accounted for. Out of habit, Taehyung glowered and turned to see how you were reacting, only to find that you’d done the same.

There was a wry smile tugging at your lips when you whispered, “Well, well, well… if it isn’t the consequences of their own actions.”

He’d snorted into his glass of water, watched his life flash before his eyes, and — thankfully — managed to swallow down his laughter before he could choke on it.

Is this the personality your husband misses out on, listening to everyone but you?

Taehyung, keeper of the company’s black card, bowed to the waitress as he handed it over. She’d smiled at him — the first genuine one he’d seen from her all night — and scurried off to close out what had likely been one of the worst shifts of her life thus far.

Normally, he’d feel the same: eager to leave and get the fuck away from the ghouls he already spent too much time with. So annoyed by their lack of manners and restraint that his rage would carry him out the door, to his car, and home again without either foot seeming to come in contact with the ground. He’d levitate this time, too, but for different reasons.

Instead, Taehyung flew home on thoughts of you. He’d replayed the way you shivered when he pulled your chair out for you and helped you into your coat. Like a rose petal in his palm, so fucking delicate, he’d carried the memory of your hand bumping innocently against his on his way out the door. And as he drove, he thought of what you’d said under your breath.

Am I a consequence of your husband’s actions, too?

Taehyung has been home for two hours now, and he still doesn’t know what the fuck to do with himself.

He doesn’t bother turning on the television; he’d never be able to focus on whatever would end up flashing across the screen. He doesn’t pick up one of the many books in that untouched, yet ever-growing pile on his coffee table. His gaze keeps flicking hopefully towards his front door, as if staring at it with intention will manifest you on the other side.

What if you changed your mind? What if you'd been caught out? What the hell was Taehyung supposed to do with your wedding ring if you never came back for it?

Fuck. Shit! Motherfu—

His catastrophizing is cut short by a quiet knock on the door. Three shy taps in quick succession, they mirror the way Taehyung’s heart is thudding against his rib cage. He ignores the anticipation turning cartwheels in his stomach as he pushes himself off the couch and makes his way to you.

Even though you’d announced your intentions earlier, Taehyung is still semi-shocked when he opens the door and sees you standing on his doorstep. The look in your eyes tells him that you’re surprised, too. At yourself, maybe, for following this rabbit hole down to the bottom. Or at him, because he hadn’t used any of the past two hours to change from his suit into something less stuffy.

You did change, he notes immediately. You’ve traded in your dress and stilettos for active wear; and Taehyung really might die now, jealous of leggings that smooth over your curves like water. It’s the comfort that really has him fucked up, though. The hair in a loose knot on top of your head, the barely-there stain of pink on your lips now that your lipstick has been discarded.

“There you are,” He hums with a tilt of his head. There on his doorstep; there in real time; there in what he can guess is your usual state. Fucking perfect. “Wasn’t sure if you changed your mind.”

You cross your arms, shifting your weight from one foot to the other, and tilt your head just the same. “I didn't,” you breeze, “I was conducting an endurance test.”

“Oh?” Taehyung chuckles softly, “Do tell.”

“I wanted to see how long I could tolerate sitting home, alone, without even a texted excuse – and without going out of my mind.”

“Two hours? Impressive.”

“Forty-five minutes,” You correct him, eyes twinkling, “I just got really, really lost on my way here.”

“Even more impressive.” Taehyung grins as he opens the door and steps aside to invite you in.

You slink through the gap; and he can’t tell if the way you brush against him is intentional or not. Then, you toe off your sneakers and leave them on the mat next to the door. You look up at him, but he’s still looking at your shoes.

Plausible deniability, he realizes. Just in case tonight is the first night that your husband cares where you are — out on a run.

Taehyung pushes the thought away, tears his gaze off of those Nikes, and refocuses on you. Ignoring the million things he wants to do to you, he nods up the hall to his kitchen. “Care for a drink? I’ve got an incredible bottle of Bordeaux from Pomerol.”

“Just one bottle?” Your tiny smirk weakens his resolve even further. If he didn't love these little exchanges so much, he'd be worshipping you by now. “Not twelve?”

The most perplexing thing about you isn’t how quick-witted you are. Taehyung’s seen it in every conversation he’s ever had with you; and he waits patiently for it, every time. The twist is how subtle you are with your little quips. Perfectly understated, they’ll fly right under the radar of anyone who doesn’t expect them.

Does your husband even know to look?

He leads and you follow until you’re both standing in his kitchen. You take in your surroundings while you nibble thoughtfully on your bottom lip. Taehyung digs through a poorly organized drawer for a corkscrew he’s not sure he even owns.

Now, he’s nervous. This is the part where you find out he’s not a wine guy. He spent every step here praying that you wouldn’t ask him a single question about that Bordeaux because he couldn’t tell you a goddamn thing about it — except that it was a gift from a client, and that he hadn’t opened it because he prefers beer.

You, on the other hand, enjoy wine. If you do end up drinking at the firm events you attend, that’s what you choose. While your husband is off somewhere, drowning in hard liquor, Taehyung is laughing with you and your glass at a table. When the night’s over, he replays the sight of your tongue darting out over your lips, collecting the excess maroon that lingers when you pull your glass away.

Taehyung can’t point out Pomerol on a map and, as it turns out, he can barely operate a wine-opener. Thankfully, you have your back turned and your eyes fixed on the wall calendar full of shit he intends to blow off. You don’t glance back at him until, with a pop, he finally yanks the mangled cork from the bottle’s neck.

Before he can turn to the counter and grab two wine glasses from the rack hanging overhead, you’re already on task. On tiptoe, reaching up, up, up, you let out a frustrated whine when you still come up short. On instinct, Taehyung steps into the space behind you. You lean back against him while he secures one glass in each hand; he feels the heat radiating off your body and nearly drops them.

Not that he would mind.

It’s so hard to give a shit about this wine with the curve of your ass so near to his dick, but he’s a better host than he is a co-worker, so he slips away to pour you a drink. Once he’s finished, he holds yours out to you.

If he were drunk by now, he could’ve blamed it on the alcohol, but he swears there’s a faint crackle of electricity when your fingertips brush against his.

You close your eyes and inhale through your nose. “Mmm,” you hum appreciatively, eyes re-opening to blink up at him, “Smells incredible, doesn’t it?”

Taehyung has no fucking clue because he forgot to fill a glass for himself. He doesn’t care if you notice, either; he’s too transfixed by the sight of your lips parting as you bring your glass to your mouth. You take that burgundy in, the column of your throat bobs as you swallow, and he’s waiting for it – waiting for it – waiting for it...

It’s such an innocent action, the tip of your tongue swiping over your lip, but it sets off something primal in him.

Bordering on feral, Taehyung sets his still-empty glass back on the granite surface of the island and takes four, wide steps to you. A little gasp tumbles out when his hands claim your waist, but it isn’t surprise. Pupils suddenly blown wide, it’s want that prompts you to discard your drink beside his and tangle both hands in his hair.

Though he’s wanted to for years, this is the first time Taehyung has ever kissed you. It’s carnal. You kiss him back, and it’s all clicking teeth, whimpers, and desperate, clinging fingers. Insatiable, too, and it tastes like fancy French wine.

You’re starving for it, he knows, and you whine when his tongue leaves yours lonely. That pout could convince him, without a word, to rob a bank at gunpoint.

Who the fuck would leave you home alone?

“Angel,” Taehyung pants, locking eyes with you. He runs the pad of his thumb over your flushed cheek and feels the way you shiver. “I’m not above fucking you in this kitchen, but after fucking you in a public restroom, I think you’ve earned a bit more comfort than that.”

“Oh, fuck – just like that, angel. Shit!"

You’re on your knees between his spread legs with his throbbing length down your throat and your hair flicked over your shoulder. It’d all spilled from your top-knot a while ago, and Taehyung remains thankful for the shitty construction of that elastic band. Now, he has some part of you to hold while the rest of your body is out of reach.

Every instinct is telling Taehyung to throw his head back against the pillow – with his eyes screwed shut and his mouth hanging open – but then he’d miss the way you keep looking up at him under dark eyelashes. Wet eyes blink as your ravenous mouth works magic, and goddamn, this talent has been going to waste for years.

If he lets your ministrations continue, he’ll be dead long before he can pay you back – with interest. Buried before he can thank you properly for your service with his face between your thighs. So, Taehyung swallows hard, cards his fingers through your hair, and gently guides you off of him.

He’s committed a lot of sins in the past six hours, but interrupting your medal-worthy exhibition feels like the worst of them.

Your voice is a bit hoarse from how much of him you’d taken and how’d deeply you taken him. Wiping at the spit that slicks your chin, you look self-conscious when you rasp, “Is something wrong?”

“No,” Taehyung shakes his head firmly though most – definitely not all – of him feels like gelatin. “Fuck no, sweets. That’s why I have to stop you.”

Sitting back on your knees, you pout, and he melts. He’s already spent too much time wondering how your husband can leave you on the sidelines – but that was before Taehyung knew what face you make when you don’t get your way.

Goodbye world, he thinks. He’ll never get out of this bed as long as you’re in it.

He beckons you with a curl of his finger, wholly unprepared for the ramifications of his decision to do so. Now, you’re straddling him, hovering overhead with your face mere centimeters away from his. You lean in when he cradles your jaw in his hand. So sweet, you smile a little when you feel the tickle of his breath warm your lips.

“Ride me.”

Taehyung can’t help himself; he’s nearly pleading. You smirk and move your hand down towards the cock leaking all over his stomach. He reaches out, taps under your chin, and stops you in your tracks. You burn pink when he clarifies, “Not there.”

This idea has you frozen in place. Worse, there’s a speck of anxiety blooming in your eyes; and Taehyung doesn’t have to guess why. He’ll add this to the infinite list of ways Park Ji-won has fucking failed you.

Taehyung was already propped up on his elbow, but now he sits up fully to meet you where you are. “Hey,” he murmurs, stroking his thumb over your chin before kissing you, “Only if it’s what you want. For what it’s worth –”

Fuck, you look so shy.

He kisses you again. “I want you to fuck yourself on my tongue –” And again. “Until you’ve taken back every orgasm –” Another kiss, and you whimper, “You’ve been deprived of.”

When Taehyung’s eyes flicker back to yours, there’s a new sense of determination burning in your irises. Even better, there’s a brief twitch in your jaw as you place your palm against his bare chest and push him back down against the mattress.

You’re a force of nature every day of the week, but as you crawl over him, it’s the most powerful he’s ever seen you look.

Your hands take hold of the headboard as you lower yourself down towards his mouth, which is already watering at the mere thought of tasting you. Pausing with your slick center just out of his reach, you glance down at Taehyung. He tilts his head to the side, nips playfully at your inner thigh, then soothes the sting with a slow swipe from his tongue.

He doesn’t say a word, but you hear him, nonetheless. Keep going. You do, and you both groan when his mouth meets your cunt.

Finally.

Tongue teasing at your clit, Taehyung’s hands on your thighs pull you down harder. He refuses to accept the shyness keeping distance between you. No, he demands your full weight; all of you.

Angel that you are, you acquiesce and grant permission for him to devour you fully. Taehyung can’t hear you keening over the suckling, slurping, and panting, but he can feel it in the way your thigh muscles clench around his head.

His name rings out clear as a bell, though, right before your whole body begins to shake.

“F-fuck!” You squeak, crumpling forward.

Taehyung suspects that your orgasm is too heavy to face sitting upright, but whatever the reason is, it’s bringing your fluttering cunt closer and closer to him; and he has no plans to stop at one. Spit-slicked and gushing over his mouth, the way you begin to grind against him says that you aren’t tapping out, either.

It’s a start, but he wants more from you. To coax it out, Taehyung pushes his fingertips deeper into the flesh of your legs and pleads with you to give him everything you have. You listen – so fucking well – and drop one hand from the headboard to grip his hair.

Yes, he screams inside his head. Use me, angel, just like that. And you do, rolling your hips against his mouth, tugging at his curls until he feels that incredible sting at his roots.

You come a second time with his tongue darting inside your hole, nose brushing against your clit. Insatiable, both of you, he forces out a third before those aftershocks can even subside.

Taehyung gasps for air when you wriggle away from him. You’re equally out-of-breath when you collapse sideways onto the bed and rest your trembling body against his. When he turns his head to look over at you, he expects to find you with your eyes closed, fully spent. Instead, despite your fluttering eyelids, you stare right back at him.

The way your fingertip traces soft spirals across his chest has his brain spinning, too. For reasons he can’t explain, that delicate touch feels infinitely more intimate than the million ways he’s touched you over the course of the night. It’s the most at-peace he’s felt, too, but you throw a curveball to keep him on his toes.

“Not tired already, are you?” You tease with a devilish grin before placing a kiss on his bicep. When he laughs incredulously at you – you minx – you keep those little kisses coming until they're trailing up the curve of his shoulder.

Taehyung is a firm believer in showing, not simply telling. Catching you completely off-guard, he rolls over until you’re pinned beneath him, head caged between his arms. Your surprise left you in a gasp, but the shock has already given way when he ducks down to nibble at the side of your neck.

You moan when he nips at your earlobe; you miss the way he smirks against your skin because your eyes have fluttered shut again. Who's tired now? He growls low from his chest to recapture your attention, “How do you want it, beautiful?”

Everywhere, all the time, like I do?

Taehyung suckles at a spot below your jaw, and he doesn’t give a fuck if your husband finds his calling card. You don’t either, it seems; you whimper and roll your head to the side to increase his access.

You keen as you place your hands on his shoulder and dig your nails into his skin, “Dealer’s choice, just – please fuck me.” It sounds close enough to a cry when you continue, “I need you inside of me – now.”

How could he ever say no when you beg like that?

Your poor thighs have been through enough, so Taehyung keeps you where you are: nestled underneath him with your heaving chest brushing against his with every breath. You spread your legs to create space for him, then cross your ankles behind his back when you feel his tip tease at your entrance.

He has to fight to keep his eyes open when he enters you; unwilling to miss a second of the way your mouth falls open, even though you’re too vexed to audibly moan. He’s not – not yet, anyway – and he can't keep quiet when your wet heat envelops him.

Slowly to start, Taehyung grinds against you, pushing his cock further into your cunt until he’s buried to the hilt. “Holy shit,” he grunts.

You’re dripping. There are rivulets of you spilling over his length, coating him all the way down. Still, your walls grip him tightly enough to dot stars behind his eyelids. Squeezing, daring him to move but fighting him as he tries to leave. You’ll milk him dry, sooner rather than later.

“I’ll never get over this – could fuck you every day, and it wouldn’t be enough.”

Whimpers spill out of you as he continues to rut against you, stretch you open for him. Your nails dig half-moons into his arms, and they sting, but Taehyung wants every single souvenir you’re willing to give him. He’d archive every touch if he could; play every mewl of yours on a loop, and savor the way it feels when you orgasm around his cock.

“So, don’t stop,” You pant, gripping his jaw and pulling him close enough to kiss. Against his lips, you repeat your demand, “Don’t ever stop.”

Taehyung is still trying to determine which version of you has him most fucked in the head.

He thought it was you and your little, black dress and heels. The version of you that followed the man who took your wedding ring into a public restroom; fucked him; and then left without your ring.

Then, he met the version of you that dresses down for clandestine, extra-marital dick appointments. A dark horse, certainly, but then there's the one who wore nothing at all; who shook, and cried, and came all over his face.

The best thing, he realizes, came last.

It's you in his crewneck, towel-drying your hair in his bathroom while he brushes his teeth. You, saying you'll stay – just this once – because you know for a fact that your husband never came home. You with your chin resting on his chest as your sleepy gaze struggles to focus on him.

Taehyung had figured that you were too tired to speak, so you startle him with your voice; even more so with the deep frown working its way over your face. With how much you shrink when you say, "I think I'm a bad person."

"Why, because you're here?"

You nod. His heart drops, though not because he didn't expect this. Rubbing gentle circles into your back, Taehyung inhales, deep in thought. There's a lot he wants to say, but significantly less that he can even begin to articulate. He can't say the quiet part out loud, even though it's screaming through his skull.

Maybe if your husband was a good person, you wouldn't be where you are right now. Maybe if he loved you, he would be home to notice that you weren't.

He tries his best, sighing, "I think people are a lot more complicated than that."

This thought catches your attention. Your chin digs into him slightly as you tilt your curious head to the side. Cute.

He continues, "I think we're given a hand of cards – some of them great, most of them shitty – and we do our best to play them well. You know, to the extent that we can."

"Do you really believe that, or are you trying to make me feel better?" You smirk, playfully tugging at the waistband of his boxers.

Taehyung exhales forcefully through his nose and tucks a runaway strand of damp hair behind your ear, "Does it matter?"

tagging: @borahae-k @i-purple-buff-bunni @pamzn @myimaginationsrunningwild @nonbinary-demonbrat @mgthecat @btschimeyplanet @jihopesjoint @jaejoontrashpanda @taebaelove @cyanide-mustard @xjoonchildx @jkoofier (couldn't tag) @bbyorchid (couldn't tag) @persphonesorchid @sncx3 @hersheytheekiss (couldn't tag) @iammisstora @quarter-life-crisis2 @here2bbtstrash @dvalitaes @1dsn @iadelicacy

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likes are always appreciated, but it's feedback that means the most — whether that's in a comment below, PM, reblog, tags, etc. tysm for reading ✨

A/N: So, by now, you've noticed that the original drabble and this fic are both in Tae's POV. I did not want to tell the reader how to feel about this. I wanted it to be as open-to-interpretation as possible, and I really, really, really wanna know what y'all think about the thing I didn't clarify: Do you think (1) they actually have feelings for each other; (2) Taehyung loves the idea of her and feels like he's "saving" her; (3) Reader just wants to be wanted, for once; or (4) it's a combination of things? HMMMM.

1K notes · View notes

morallyinept · 24 days

Text

Adrift With You - A Frankie Morales Series - Chapter 13

Summary: Heading away on a work re-location, Frankie embarks on a flight, but unbeknownst to him, his life is about to change forever. For starters, he will need to fight for it; harder than he's ever fought for anything else before.

Marooned on an isolated island in the middle of the ocean, still recovering from an addiction, his chances of survival are bleak; but he’s not alone on the island, and soon he’s running towards a different kind of life - a life with fellow survivor, Jude, fighting right beside him every step of the way.

And if they can both survive the island together, they can survive anything, right?

Pairing: Frankie Morales x OFC Jude

Chapter word count: 7.3k

SERIES MASTERLIST | MAIN MASTERLIST

☝🏻See Series Masterlist for full smut warnings & triggers in this story. Chapters that contain smut or triggers will be highlighted in the chapter notes below. 👇🏻

Chapter notes: Frankie and Jude are tested to their absolute limit. Mentions of smut.

Enjoy! 🖤

Chapter 12

The pen runs out of ink on the fourteenth of April.

Frankie looks down at the notebook as his scrawl becomes nothing but faint indents on the paper. He shakes the pen in frustration, but it’s no use. His writing days are over now.

They’ve been on the island for almost a whole year. Surviving, barely, on fish - and now tamarind - and rain water.

Jude would make a pulpy sweet mush of the tamarind to flavour the fish, and it jazzed up the cooking for a while. But soon, like the fish, eating the tamarind soon lost its sweet taste on their tongues.

The school of fish had dwindled dangerously for a while, but soon more began to appear in the bay as the weather shifted. The rainy season seemed to end and the scorching sun was back with a vengeance.

One day whilst they were fishing, Frankie continued to scout around the rock pools and found a few mussels - and was careful not to step on any urchins this time - as he pried them off the rocks with the completely dull switchblade.

He proceeded to explain to Jude in great detail about all the tasty ways you can cook mussels; rambling on excitedly like a five year-old who won’t shut the fuck up about dinosaurs, and it made her smile fondly at him to see him smile about something again.

They ate the mussels from their shells, steaming them in the tin over the fire and that seemed like a treat, something different which revitalised their spirits for a little while.

But still they continued to appear more gaunt, often going days without eating at all, not because they didn’t have any food - what with the tamarind pods filling up a suitcase that they’d taken out as Frankie climbed the trees and shook them loose onto the ground for Jude to collect - but because when you eat the same thing over and over, you soon begin to lose your appetite for it.

“If we ever get off this island, I’m never eating fish or tamarind again.” Jude remarks one evening as they’re sitting by the fire outside together.

Frankie has his arm slung over her shoulder and is twirling his fingers idly in the sand beside him, drawing squiggly lines absentmindedly.

“I second that.” He smirks. “I think I might just live off of Mcdonalds for a month or something. Get a bit fat.”

“Mm. I can see you with chubby cheeks and wearing sweatpants with your gut out, shovelling burgers in your mouth. Hot.” Jude giggles.

“Living the dream,” he agrees. She feels his chest heave as he chuckles.

“Do you think they had a funeral for us?” Jude asks a little time later, and the question winds Frankie; he stops drawing in the sand.

He wraps his arm around her tighter and kisses the top of her head.

“I think they probably did.” He admits, trying not to think about it, admittedly.

“What do you think they would’ve said about you?”

“Hopefully good things, but I doubt it." He says, sadly.

“Of course they did. You’re a good person.”

“Here, maybe. But I’ve done a lot of shit I’m not proud of. Even before the coke.” He kisses her head again and rests his chin on it, staring out into the flames. Thinking about all the mistakes.

“I miss my mom so much.” Jude whispers.

“Me too, I miss all of ‘em. Everyone.” Frankie confirms.

He thinks about his family and the guys. Their faces flit behind his eyes. He even thinks about Carla a little too; wondering if she’d attended his funeral. He considers if she’d stood up and read from anything, or said anything heartfelt and cried with black mascara tears streaming down her face. Whether she’s mourning the loss of him and wishing things had been different.

His chest feels tight at all of the murky recall.

Jude feels him sigh out and cuddles into him further. “You okay?”

“Yeah. Just thinking is all.” Frankie assures.

“I know, I can hear the cogs turning.”

His fingers jab, tickling into her side and she flinches, laughing.

“I’m alright. Just comes in waves, y’know?” He explains.

“I know. When I think about it, it’s like I can’t breathe. I can’t imagine their pain. Not knowing what happened to us; that we’re right here, waiting.”

“Yeah.” Frankie nods.

Jude reaches for his hand and interlocks his fingers, squeezing them tightly inside her own. “We have each other though, right?”

“Right,” Frankie nods to her as she looks up at him.

She kisses him, lingering on his lips and breathing him in. He kisses her, his beard scratching against her lips and it makes her giggle.

“You’re so fuckin’ beautiful, you know that?” Frankie says.

“No. You don’t tell me nearly enough.” She grins.

“C’mere,” he says, pulling her in and squeezing her hips and she laughs.

They spend time curled up together by the fire as it gets dark and she hears Frankie yawn.

“You feeling sleepy?” Jude asks him and he nods, those eyes of his looking a little droopy.

“Let’s go to bed,” she smiles at him and stands up. As she does so, she stumbles backwards a little unsteady on her feet.

“Dizzy?” Frankie asks her, steadying her with a hand on her back and one on her stomach.

“Yeah. I’m okay.” She pats his hand and begins walking towards the shack with his arm around her.

Jude rolls over on the cushion bed a few days later and watches Frankie as he sleeps through her fuzzy vision coming into focus, rubbing crusted sleep from her eyes.

She notices small beads of perspiration on his forehead like diamonds glittering in the sunlight streaming in through the window hole, and watches as his eyes dance crazily back and forth under his eyelids.

He flinches a little and groans as he dreams.

She places her hand on his chest, feeling his heartbeat thrumming inside it. His skin is boiling to the touch and she sits up, a little concerned.

“Frankie...” She whispers close to his ear and he stirs, groaning. “Frankie, wake up. You’re having a bad dream.”

He opens his eyes slowly and turns his head towards her; focusing in on her face as she wipes at his forehead that seems utterly drenched.

“Hey,” she greets him and he blinks several times before smiling, then frowning.

“Fuck, my head is hammering,” Frankie reaches up and runs his hand over the top of his skull with his thick fingers.

“Are you feeling alright, you’re pretty hot?” Jude touches his skin around his scarred neck. “Having a sexy dream, were you?” She snickers.

“Pornographic.” Frankie smirks.

He sits up slowly and the shack begins to spin. “Fuck.” He slumps back down on the bed and Jude fetches him some water.

“Here, drink this.” She unscrews the cap and he glugs quickly from the bottle feeling incredibly parched.

“How much do we have left?” He gasps as though the thirst will never be satiated.

“Enough, just drink it.” She encourages, touching over his head and feeling how hot he is. “You’re burning up. Just stay in bed today, you need the rest, okay?”

Frankie nods and flops back down on the bed grunting.

“I’ll go catch us some fish, you need to eat something. I know you haven’t been.” Jude says, narrowing her eyes at him.

He smiles faintly at her through purplish-pink lips. He runs his pointer finger around the top of his head in a circle indicating there’s a halo there, and she smirks with a little unimpressed snort.

“Take my cap, it's hot out.” He says, tossing his cap at her and she plonks it on her head.

Jude leaves him to sleep off what is probably chronic exhaustion and hunger, and heads to the bay to fish.

The water is mostly still as Jude wades around the rock pools, watching the fish and spearing them.

She catches several and smiles as they fill the tin; a sight she hasn’t seen for a long time. She glances up to see the empty shell of the fuselage on the sandbank still, ageing with an early birthing of speckled rust as the sun scorches it daily.

Her mind wanders back to the harrowing moments of the plane crash, a memory etched into her consciousness like a scar on her soul.

The cabin engulfed in chaos as the plane shuddered and lurched through the turbulent skies. Panic-stricken passengers clinging to their seats, their faces contorted in fear as the realisation of their impending doom washes over them like a tidal wave.

Jude can feel her heart pounding in her chest, each beat a thunderous drumming in her ears as she braces herself for the inevitable impact, but it goes dark, just like it did when she blacked out.

She looks out at the horizon, thinking about the impending anniversary of them both being on the island for three hundred and sixty-five days, and all that they’ve accomplished and endured on this piece of shitty rock they’re still marooned on.

She feels a tickle around her thighs and looks down, freezing instantly.

It’s a small shark in the water, barely longer than her arm in length, swimming around her legs curiously and she smiles widely as she aims her spear.

Jude heads back to the shack with the tin of fish and slimy shark corpse. She approaches the fire, tossing more kindling on it, encouraging the flames to grow once more ready for their meal, and goes to check on Frankie.

She enters under the plastic sheet. “Hey, guess what I caught in the bay, it’s a-”

She stops dead in her tracks when she sees Frankie on the ground, laying on his front, vomit all around his face and a red blotchy rash covering his back and arms.

“Frankie!” Jude lurches forward and shakes him; he’s unresponsive and she immediately sticks her fingers into his mouth, clearing away the vomit.

“Frankie! Wake up! Frankie!” She shakes him again and he groans with a choked gurgle.

“Oh, thank God! Frankie, can you hear me?” She pulls back his eyelid with her thumb and his eyes are rolled into the back of his head.

She pours water from a bottle over his chin, rinsing away his vomit from around his mouth, and then uses her wet hand to touch his forehead that still feels aflame.

“Frankie!” Jude calls out to him again, shaking him and once more he groans.

He’s alive, but she’s completely panic stricken. His breathing is shallow and laboured, his pulse weak and thready beneath her touch.

A wave of dread washes over Jude as she realises the gravity of the situation. He's sick. He's sick on an island without a doctor or any meds.

She strips him of his clothes; his body is saturated with sweat, and the heat radiating off of it feels like the sun’s corona burning her fingertips.

The rash is all over his torso, in and around his groin in patches of red lichen-like blotches which look mean and an angry red.

She hooks her arms under his armpits and drags him towards the bed, groaning out at the weight of him.

Despite his drastic weight loss, he’s still heavy. Jude lugs him backwards more until she’s able to roll him onto the bed. She turns him over into the recovery position, tilting his head up so he doesn't swallow his tongue.

She dabs away vomit chunks from Frankie’s beard and washes him down with sea water she collects, trying to cool his body temperature.

Jude spends the next two days by his side, periodically pouring water down his throat as he drifts in and out of a heavy consciousness.

“Wake up, Frankie, please.”

But Frankie remains stubbornly unconscious, his features slack and pale against the crimson blotches. He’s sick several more times, and when there’s blood in it, she freaks.

“Frankie, stay with me,” Jude pleads to him as he passes out again; the water dribbling from his lips.

She doesn’t sleep. She never got to cook the fish or the shark.

Instead it stays untouched outside on the beach, slowly rotting in the sun.

Dengue fever isn’t pleasant.

Of course, at the time neither Jude nor Frankie knew that’s what he had.

It’s caused by mosquito bites, and only a few days prior to falling ill, Frankie had been bitten by one that was infected as he fished in the bay.

He’d slapped the pest dead against his arm and didn’t think much of it. He’d been bitten around the ankles by horseflies in the grasses and all sorts of bugs since being on the island - just another pest taking a bite out of his tasty skin.

But it was as simple as that - a simple, little bite.

Ordinarily, if he’d been fully healthy, the effects of the fever wouldn’t have maimed him as much. But we all know that from his current state of malnourishment and dehydration, he wasn’t strong enough, and his immune system struggled to suppress the infection.

It had already begun to spread through his body and started laying down the foundations of the attack.

The signs were there; hot flushes, stomach cramps and vomiting. But yet he’d been doing that on the regular, so what was there to notice differently, really?

Frankie had caught an abundance of fish; nine in total, before the school figured out their numbers were dwindling before their eyes, and scooted off into the deep again from whence they came.

He’d cooked them all over the fire and mashed more tamarind with it, and they’d feasted like kings that evening, filling their bellies up until they felt like they would pop uncomfortably.

They sat opposite one another, eating and playing another game of Tic-Tac-Toe in the sand and talking like they usually would.

Frankie had the hiccups; probably from eating too fast he assumed at the time, and the little belches that rolled out of him had made Jude giggle.

“Where did you get that scar on your hip?” She’d asked him randomly, as he placed down a shell in the middle box of the hand drawn grid in the sand.

“I was shot.” Frankie’s mind casts back to the helicopter crash and the feel of the bullet ripping through his skin.

“Jesus.”

“Yeah.” He’d hiccupped again, keeping his mouth closed.

“You were shot at a lot, weren’t you?” She placed her pebble down.

“Nine times.” He holds his wrist up at her with the numbers tattoo.

“I couldn’t imagine that.” She said, scrunching up her face.

“I shot back, too. Thirty-nine confirmed kills.” He was concentrating on the grid and looking carefully at where to place his next shell, when his shoulders heaved again from another rolling hiccup.

“You got any scars, aside from the crippling emotional ones?” Frankie had questioned and she’d tossed one of her pebbles at him. He whinnied as it landed in his lap.

“A few,” she’d drawn her leg up and caught sight of the pink, ragged scar on the back of her calf, probably the most prominent one now to adorn her body.

“I have this one,” Jude had said, turning her face to the right and pointing just under the top of her cheekbone. A small, faded circle was there, indented into her flesh.

“I wondered about that one. It looks like someone hole-punched your face,” Frankie marvelled.

He hiccupped again and put his hand over his mouth tasting bile in the back of his throat.

“No, it was chicken pox. My mom says I kept scratching it and scratching it, and now I have a scar there.” She shrugged.

“My brother and I got the pox at the same time. It was fuckin’ carnage in our house when our cousins got it too. My pop just threw us all out in the garden in the pool and let us get on with it.” Frankie smiled, putting down another shell, and she’d blocked him making a complete line with another pebble.

She watched as his face changed; a sudden look of widening eyes and a serious mouth as he looked across at her.

“What?” She questioned him curiously.

Frankie promptly stood up and dashed off over towards the tree line.

Once there, he threw up; barely making it to the ground on his knees before it flooded out of him.

He pulled off his t-shirt and wiped his mouth with it, looking disgusted at the lumpy swill of barely digested fish. He groaned out as he felt it rise up again in the back of his throat and he bent forward heaving it all out.

“Hey, you okay?” Jude asked him, approaching and rubbing his back as he’d sat upright on his knees, the pile of fish and tamarind mixed puke visible in front of them.

“I’m fine. Except everything comes out of my body in liquid form now,” Frankie winced, gripping his stomach and spitting onto the ground.

“Too much fish?” Jude asked him tenderly as he stood up.

He nodded. “Maybe, I dunno. Probably.” He scrunched the t-shirt up in his hand.

“Come on,” she had said sympathetically, putting her arm around his waist and walking with him slowly back to the fire.

Four days later and he’s drifting in and out of consciousness; dreaming of nothing but black feverish voids as he burns up and his body gives birth to a ferocious rash that prickles at his already scorched skin.

Jude dips a t-shirt into the tin of sea water and wrings it out on the third day that Frankie remains hardly responsive.

She dabs at his chest and shoulders, giving him a tiresome bed bath to cool him off, titling his head back and tipping rain water into his mouth in the small instances when he’ll come to.

She occasionally dozes off for a few moments beside him, absolutely shattered.

She’ll suddenly jolt awake when he groans out or throws up again, and the longer he remains like this, the more fearful she becomes that he’ll actually die.

“Don’t you fucking dare die on me. You hear me, Frankie.” Jude warns him as she watches him just lying there, occasionally grunting in pain.

She hovers her fingers under his nostrils to feel for any air flowing out of them when she’s staring at his chest, convinced she can’t see it rising and falling like it should be, and working herself up all over again.

She picks up his hand and kisses it, holding it close to her lips and feeling utterly helpless and terrified.

With each shallow breath that escapes Frankie's mouth, Jude's heart clenches with a sense of impending doom, the fear of losing him clawing at her chest like a ravenous beast.

She can't bear the thought of him slipping away from her, of being left alone in this desolate wilderness with nothing but memories of what could have been.

There’s no way she can get through this without him; she’s resolute in that fact. It’s thanks to him that she’s even made it this far; the swamping loneliness on the island would have driven her insane during the first few weeks alone.

With him here, grinning at her moronically through mouthfuls of fish to make her laugh, or showing her how to light the fire; rubbing the small of her back when she sleeps in his arms, are the moments that make life bearable on the island - make it seem normal somehow in their routine.

The island is him - it’s Frankie.

A whole year almost of just being in his personal space and learning about his life previously makes facing each day worthwhile, something to look forward to. And to take that from her now would be cruel.

She knows if he slips away she’ll undoubtedly follow. A life without him on the island isn’t a life she wants to live through. She’s confident in that thought, as harrowing and scary as it is to consider.

It would drive you mad, a year in this place, all alone. Loneliness is an acute disease; people die of loneliness all the time.

Have you ever heard about those stories of an elderly couple being married for years and years, and when one of them sadly passes on, the other physically can’t live without them and passes away not too soon after, dying of a broken heart? Yeah, that.

You give up; you don’t want to face the world alone without them, because you simply know you can’t.

Imagine wandering the shoreline without anyone to talk to out loud, no-one to share your fears or worries with or talk them through rationally when they try to overcome you and drown you like the ocean’s waves.

No-one to calm you down when the sheer terror will rattle through your bones convincing you that you’re going to die out here.

No-one looking into your eyes with their warm cocoa ones and telling you to breathe deeply and try again, with an encouraging smile beaming out at you from under a navy Standard Heating Oil baseball cap.

No-one to hold you in his strong, broad arms and tell you stories about his life, his hopes, wishes and dreams as you listen to the music of his body; twirling your fingers around the curly hair at the nape of his neck that has grown longer as the days had worn on.

It doesn’t bear thinking about, right?

Frankie was a stranger once; just another passenger on a plane headed for a final destination into carnage, but now he’s the better half of Jude - the stronger one, her protector.

The one to get her through, the one who had seen every single side of her, including the vulnerable, the weak and the damn right acutely terrified.

He’d seen all the ugly parts of her when no-one else had seen them before, and yet he still scooped her up in his arms and told her she was strong, brave and beautiful.

It dawns on her that if he actually dies, if he is to slip away right now from her on this thin thread of a hard life they’ve been walking on for some time now, she’ll never recover from the loss.

Because he’s everything; he’s saved her, without a shadow of a doubt, and in more ways than one.

I love him. I fucking love him.

Jude’s dabbing him with the wet t-shirt again around his neck, looking closely at the faint, pink scars on his skin from when he was burned by the aviation fuel in the water, when Frankie reaches for her hand.

She looks up at his face, his eyes bloodshot and blinking at her through heavy, tired lids.

She scrambles up closer to his face and strokes through his wiry hair, her eyes filling with water.

“Hey,” she says, and kisses the top of his head in relief. Thank God.

“Why you crying?” Frankie croaks out through a constricted throat.

“Because of you, you dummy.” Jude reaches for the water and tilts the bottle towards him so he can drink. “I think you caught a fever or something. You had a rash and passed out. You’ve been out for days.” Jude rubs away the water that drips from his mouth and glistens in his beard, over-spilling.

“What?” Frankie coughs. He tries to sit upright on the bed.

“Slowly,” she urges.

“I passed out?” Frankie asks her, a little confused, rubbing his eyes.

“Yeah.” She wipes her own eyes as he lifts his fingers to them and smears away a tear or two.

For a moment, Frankie seems disoriented, his gaze searching hers as though trying to make sense of the world around him.

But then, as the fog begins to lift and clarity returns, a small smile tugs at the corners of his lips - a silent reassurance that speaks volumes without a word being said.

“How are you feeling?”

“My head is still fuckin’ throbbing,” he says with eyes like he’s squinting.

Jude places the wet t-shirt on his head as a cool compress for him. “I caught a shark.” She smirks as he closes his eyes in relief of the compress.

“I knew you were badass,” Frankie smiles.

“It was a bay shark, kinda small. I couldn’t cook it; it’s probably no good now.”

“That sucks.” Frankie remarks with a faint smile through his cracked lips. He can taste blood on them and the stench of vomit lingers in his nostrils.

She leans forward and kisses his forehead. Most of the rash has disappeared from his body except around his legs where it’s still fading. His palms and ankles are a little puffy and swollen and he looks pretty out of it still.

Jude's eyes shine with tears as she reaches out to grasp his hand, her fingers trembling with emotion.

"Thank God you're okay," she murmurs, her voice thick with emotion. "I was so scared..."

“You look tired,” he observes, pulling on her braid gently.

“I didn’t sleep much for the last three days.” She smiles faintly, blinking and her eyes feel incredibly irritated, despite the tears now falling out of them.

“Come here, hermosa,” Frankie encourages, holding out his arms and she shuffles into them. He wraps her in tight and he feels much cooler to the touch.

He kisses the top of her head several times and squeezes her, a silent reassurance that he’s still with her, that they’ve weathered yet another storm together.

“I thought you were gonna die” she peeps timidly, her voice breaking.

“No. You don’t get rid of me that easily,” Frankie breathes into her hair, his throat feeling tight and raw.

Jude looks up at him and he leans in for a kiss, but she baulks as she can smell vomit on his breath.

“Maybe wash your mouth out first,” she laughs, wiping her eyes.

“Fuck that.” Frankie pulls her face towards him and kisses her, smiling.

They both sleep for what feels like a hundred years.

Frankie is stroking her face as she sleeps in his arms. Her rhythmic breathing is a soothing melody in the otherwise quiet dawn, a reminder of the fragility of their existence on the deserted island.

The idea of Jude navigating the challenges of survival without him fills him with a sense of guilt, a pang of regret for the moments he had been unconscious, unaware of her struggles.

He can't bear the thought of her facing the dangers of the island alone, her resilience and strength a testament to her unwavering determination to survive.

And yet, as he gazes down at her peaceful expression, a sense of gratitude washes over him - a deep-seated appreciation for her unwavering faith in him, her steadfast belief that they’ll overcome whatever obstacles lay in their path, together.

And he believes it too, knowing that with Jude by his side, he's the strongest he's ever been in his life.

With a soft sigh, Frankie presses a tender kiss to the top of Jude's head, his heart heavy with the weight of his own fears and insecurities, but they’re muted for a while longer as he lies with her.

She wakes a little while later and it’s barely light out.

“How are you feeling?” Jude asks him through a stifled yawn.

“Better.” His stomach rumbles and they chuckle together. “Hungry.”

“You feel up to going fishing today? Might find another shark.” She asks with a small birth of hope in her voice.

“Yeah. I’ll give it a go.” He nods and kisses her forehead again.

Frankie sits up slowly and takes his time standing fully upright on his legs that feel weak and like they don’t belong to him.

“I need a wash first though, I stink.” He says, getting a whiff of himself.

“Yeah. You’re a bit ripe.” Jude laughs, wrinkling her nose.

She takes him by the hand and leads him slowly down towards the shore, stopping by the cave mouth to pick up the remaining soap and shampoo. He looks at her expression and shrugs as she explains that it’s the last of it.

“Well, it was a nice luxury whilst we had it,” Frankie remarks casually.

They wade into the sea and he dips under the water and resurfaces, running his hands over his face, water dripping from his beard that’s longer and more coarse.

Jude squirts some of the shower gel into her palm. He holds his out and she squirts the last of it into his hands in a bubbly dollop, and watches as he rubs them together making a creamy lather.

Smirking, Frankie runs his hands across her chest, massaging the soap into her breasts, and stopping momentarily to feel her nipples harden under his palms.

She leans in, kissing him and tasting salt on his lips. She runs her soapy hands through his hair, scratching through it as she works the lather and makes him groan out in a satisfied grunt.

“I like it when you make that noise...” She breathes, smiling as he opens his eyes and looks back at her.

“I like the noises you make, too.” He grins.

Jude presses up against his chest; her breasts crushed tight against him as he kisses her with some sudden uncontrollable urgency. His tongue darts into her mouth and his hands paw at her ass.

She reaches down into the water and finds his cock, hard and rigid. He grunts out into her lips as his fingers swim up inside her pussy, and makes her gasp out too as his thumb brushes against her clit.

“Fuck me...” Frankie whines into her mouth enticingly as she pumps him.

“You should really take it easy,” she says around his lips, unable to resist that pull of him as his fingers slide in and out of her.

He shakes his head. “Fuck me, Jude.” Frankie whines again, smirking with glittery eyes.

She bites down on his lip making him hiss. He lifts her up onto him; the soft, bounding waves keep her buoyant as she wraps her legs around his waist.

Jude cries out as she feels him slide into her, making him grunt in unison.

He holds onto her ass cheeks as he rocks his hips back and forth in the water, fucking her deep and with intense strokes.

“You feel so good,” she whines.

Jude clings on around his neck, crushing her lips to his and moaning out as she bounces up and down on his thick cock, with a little help from the waves in a deliciously intense rhythm.

“Fuck!” Frankie grunts out, gripping onto her ass tighter.

“Frankie!” She throws her head back as she comes hard and fast; her braid dipping into the water and he’s gasping out through his own rolling orgasm as he pumps out inside of her, shaking.

She holds onto him as they stop moving, feeling his cock slide out of her, and he kisses her again.

They chuckle, and she watches as he dives under the water, rinsing the suds from his hair and swimming around her, poking her in the stomach or butt cheek from under the water.

Jude looks up at the sky, a huge weight of relief sliding off of her shoulders that had been wrought and tense for the last few days.

Thank you...

She’s running, but no matter how fast she runs, the helicopter is falling further and further out of sight, away from the island.

“Wait! Don’t leave me!”

Her voice is being swallowed up by the sound of the crashing tide rolling in beside her as she runs down the beach.

Jude can see Frankie inside the helicopter looking out at her; the wind flapping through his unruly locks, and waving back at her as he shrinks further and further into the horizon, until the helicopter disappears completely and Jude is left on the beachfront, falling to her knees in horrific disbelief.

No, NO!

She wakes up with a jolt; her heartbeat reverberating crazily inside her chest like it’s trying to escape.

She’s had this nightmare a few times since being on the island, but it seems more intense this time - more like it could be real and she’s waiting for it to happen where she won’t wake up, no matter how many times she pinches herself.

She finds Frankie crouched by the fire pit cooking a singular fish and turning it over on the flat stone.

Egon is perched beside him on the rock watching the fish sizzling intently; looking for a snatch-and-run opportunity.

Frankie scoops a piece of tamarind out of the tin he’s been mashing up and offers it out to Egon; the little monkey’s fingers curl around his own.

“That’s all you’re getting.” Frankie advises him.

He looks over his shoulder as Jude approaches. “Hey,” he croons to her with a sleepy smile.

“Morning, Captain Morales,” she yawns, planting a kiss on his crown before heading down to the shore for a swim to wake her up.

It’s been several weeks since Frankie suffered through his horrific fever, and although it seems as though he’s recovered well physically, mentally is another question.

He’s been a little quiet; withdrawn and reflective as she often catches him just staring into nothing.

Completely zoned out at the furthest reaches from her, until she’ll touch his hand and he’ll come back to her with a little startle and a faint smile to convince her that he’s okay.

She wonders what it is that he sees in that thousand yard stare.

She slips off her clothes that are like a tent on her now. She’s been reduced to just wearing the bikini bottoms and a t-shirt that swamps her as of late; the shorts and her jeans no longer stay up around her waist of their own volition and she’s tired of hanging onto them all the time.

Frankie wears a t-shirt, or a plaid woollen jacket on the days it’s a little chillier, and he often drapes it around her shoulders to keep her warm at night.

When it’s unbearably hot, he’s often fully naked and letting it all hang out and free, and it's a sight that admittedly, she won’t tire of.

The flip-flops have long since broken and so he walks on bare feet, the skin on his soles hard and dry.

Jude’s hair has grown so long that it almost touches her lower back and it seems almost daily that Frankie re-braids it for her after combing the knots out with his fingers as they sit by the fire or on the shore whilst he does it.

His own hair and beard is even shaggier now and grease slicked from sweat. The cap barely keeps its unruly mess at bay.

She’s noticed his weight loss increase further over the last few months, seeing the bony bulges of his spine now too when he hunches over the fire.

How his rib cage is showing under his skin and how sunken and sullen his face looks, more so than it ever had before. He’s so skinny it’s spooky.

It’s a harsh reality to confront that essentially they’re only just keeping full starvation at bay. She dreads to think what they'll do when the tamarind stops growing, or the fish stop coming into the bay altogether.

It gives her shivers to even venture down that route of dark, swirly thoughts that are like gnarled fingers reaching out for them and following them around, ready to snap them up at any given moment.

Jude wades into the water to cool her skin and notices the sky is a swirl of blue and grey. Clouds are forming on the horizon and the breeze contains a little nip, even through the heavy heat.

She swims around in the water, untying her braid and diving under to resurface again to wash her hair without shampoo as she scratches through her salty scalp with her fingers.

Frankie’s padding into the water, and she smiles warmly as he swims towards her and kisses her deeply.

She wraps her legs around his waist as he holds her whilst they bob in the water.

“I made some food. Fish and tamarind paste, my specialty.” Frankie smirks at her.

She clutches his chin with her thumb and finger and kisses him again.

“And maybe some monkey, because if Egon steals it I will actually gut him.”

“You love him really,” Jude smiles, patting his hairy cheek.

He dives under the waves and as he resurfaces, he clocks the panic stricken look morphing on Jude’s face as the water rinses out his ears.

“What?” He questions, frowning.

Then he feels it himself; the intense shaking and rocking of the seabed floor.

She plops backwards in the water as the heavy rumbling intensifies, knocking her off balance.

“Fuck!” Frankie swims to her as she resurfaces, wiping at her face and spluttering in shock.

“Holy shit, was that an earthquake?!” Jude exclaims to him as he hoists her up on her feet in the shifting water as the rumbles die out.

“We need to get outta the fuckin’ water!” Frankie presses to her with wide eyes.

“Wait,” she pulls him back, but he simply grabs at her hand, pulling her forward

“I’m serious, Jude. We need to get to high ground, quickly.” The panic is palpable in his voice. “That was a fuckin’ earthquake. We’re on an island in the middle of the ocean. A tsunami will be imminent. We have to get to high ground!” Frankie repeats to her, looking Jude dead in the eye.

He isn’t messing around.

Jude can feel her heartbeat crashing inside her chest as he says the words. “A-a tsunami?”

“Yeah, we have maybe fifteen minutes or so, maybe less.”

“How do you know that, it might not even happen?”

“Do you wanna take that chance? C’mon!” Frankie makes a dash for the shoreline and they run naked towards the shack.

She frantically pulls on clothes as does he inside of it.

“Here!” Frankie tosses her a life jacket; one of the two he’d kept rolled up all this time on the case beside the bed.

A warning sign; a deadly prediction from his gut thriving into fruition right under their noses all this time.

It only perplexes him how, at the time all those months ago when he’d made that decision not to cut these two life jackets up, that he would be right not to.

He hopes he’s wrong. Hopes that nothing will happen and that his overzealousness will be met with a rational calm later.

With trembling hands, his senses on high alert, he searches in his mind for the safest route to higher ground. Every second feels like an eternity as they stumble through the frantic chaos.

Jude unravels it and puts it over her head, fastening the ties, but not inflating it.

He nods at her as she glances at him as her hands work the ties in a blur, time seeming like it grinds to a complete halt as the looks they exchange terrify them both to their cores.

They both run out of the shack. Frankie looks out at the sea and it all seems calm and normal. No signs of any turbulent water, but they can’t take the chance and be caught unawares.

“Up to the ridge, go!” Frankie instructs.

They scramble up the hill towards the ridge; getting up there in half the time it usually takes them. Frankie’s pulling her by the arm, almost yanking it out the socket as they pelt up the hill as fast as they can muster.

They reach the top of the ridge and Frankie’s branch igloo is still there; as is the ugly shirt flag fluttering in the breeze. Jude puts her hands on her knees and breathes in heavily, staring out at the horizon, watching... waiting.

“What do we do?” She puffs.

“We wait. It’s all we can do.” Frankie confirms bleakly.

“It might not happen,” she murmurs, convincing herself.

“Almost after every earthquake at sea, there’s a tsunami that follows,” Frankie informs her, but it doesn’t make it any better.

His mind races with the memories of the devastating effects of tsunamis he’d witnessed during his time in the military, on search and rescue recon’s - the sheer power of the waves etched into his memory like a nightmare he can't shake.

“Are we up high enough?” Jude asks, fear gripping her.

He doesn’t answer, feeling the heavy breeze blow through his beard and watches as the wind whips around her hair, casting it about wildly like a sea monster with several hundred tentacles coming at him.

Frankie secures his own life jacket around his waist and then tugs on Jude’s to check its tightness. He undoes it and ties it again for her, and she feels him pull on it again afterwards to test it won’t come undone.

Frankie looks up at the flag shirt and reaches for it, tearing it down from the branch. She watches him rip through the fabric with ease.

He takes her right arm and wraps it around hers and then around his left one, effectively tying their two hands together.

She locks her fingers into his and he grips onto them tightly.

She can already feel the bind of the shirt cutting off her circulation, but it’s nothing compared to the sheer terror raging through her body right now.

And that's when she realises it. Realises how eerily quiet it’s suddenly become.

“Shit...” Frankie gasps looking over her head at the horizon, his eyes widening in fear.

He pulls her back towards him as she turns and sees the waves high in the sky in the distance.

All she can do is gulp at the sight of it hurtling towards the island.

Frankie tugs on the pull cord of her life jacket, the hiss pours out of it as it inflates around her chest and throat.

He does the same with his, but nothing happens.

Jude looks wide-eyed at him; hearing nothing but her heartbeat inside of her ears almost deafening her now.

“No, no, no-”

“It’s ok,” he reassures. “Just don’t let go. It’ll be okay.” Frankie squeezes her hand tighter than ever. "Don't fuckin' let go."

Jude looks out at the horizon, at the waves hurtling towards them; thundering across the ocean and staring at imminent death in the face as it smiles back at them viciously.

It’s been waiting for them, waiting for so long and is now coming to reap the reward of its patience.

“Frankie-” She begins in a terrified voice that whimpers and cracks. “Frankie!”

“I fuckin’ love you, Jude!” Frankie calls out to her frantically over the storm of the relentless tidal commotion that bellows through their eardrums.

She looks back and sees the transformation on his face.

It’s like super, slow motion as his nostrils flare, his eyes widen as big as they'll go, and his mouth morphs into a large engulfing hole; his teeth bared and shouting as loudly as he can at her.

He wrenches Jude backwards into his arms as the waves fully engulf the island in a thunderous roar.

“BRAAACE!!” Frankie yells.

To be continued...

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solargeist · 28 days

Note

Okok here it is 1. Cw unreality stuff i guess? Like not being able to tell if you’re hallucinating 2. I know you said they scare each other but uhh they kind of psychologically horror each other it got away from me a bit

Scar figured he was finally going crazy.

It was overdue, really, with how long he had been alone. Stranded on a hostile world, left checking over his shoulder, expecting doom around every corner, it really shouldn’t have come as a surprise that he’d started seeing things. A flicker of purple, staining his periphery as he moved about his base. It disappeared the moment he whipped around to see it, and faded from view within a few seconds every time that he noticed it, but as the stain stuck for longer and longer just in the very corner of his vision, he started to worry that this might actually be the end of him.

That was dramatic, he thought, over just a flash of purple tucked away in his blind spot, something very likely just a trick of the light. He thought, until he started monologuing to this violet cataract, started feeling the weight of eyes on his back. He’d cook more than he had planned to and leave plates out, disobeying the strict rations he had set for himself (because that was all he had to feed, himself, no one else). He had full conversations with an empty room, holding that violet smudge in the corner of his eye like a match cupped in shaking hands against a howling wind. The plates always ended up empty. He wasn’t sure who ate them. He couldn’t remember.

Time went on. Things got worse. He saw purple even when he wasn’t trying, still fading the moment he tried to pull it from his periphery, but still hiding there, by his cupboards and corners and closets, in every space that he wasn’t looking. He clung to it— sometimes it would leave for hours on end, he didn’t notice the absences before. Now they felt like bleeding out.

It was warm that day, he remembered, that he last spoke to the stain. Not directly to it, of course— moreso at it, or around it, or through it, something like that— but he found himself talking until he was hoarse nowadays and that day was no exception. “I’ve been meaning to replace these curtains,” he informed no one, stroking the sun-soaked fabric of the window between his thumb and forefinger as the shape behind him watched from the countertop. “I used to have boats on my curtains. My brother had spaceships. I was so jealous. It seemed so important then.” He let go of the curtain, letting his hand fall to the side. “I hope he’s okay. My brother. I keep hoping— I think he got off-world in time, before the transporter system broke down. They said on the radio, years ago, they’d come back for us. The scientists, not my brother.” He turned his head just slightly, catching the blurred shape in his vision as it leaned towards him. He wasn’t sure if it was genuine interest or just a bored shift. “No, the scientists said they’d get emergency transporters in place in a few months, so maybe he caught one of those, him and mom. Then again, the radios went down before the project was done, so. Not sure if they ever went through with it, if they decided we were a lost cause. I’m still here, I guess, just… waiting. For rescue, I think. Hopefully whatever it is I’m waiting for will come soon because I—“

He turned his eyed a degree too far. The shape that had grown so clear and close to him vanished like a candle blown out. He was in his kitchen. He was alone. A cupboard made bare by greedy hands and spiders, something was wrong, something was missing. He didn’t used to feel this bad about being alone, didn’t he? He had been alone before, had it really been this bad?

He figured he was finally going crazy.

Scar didn’t talk to the spot in his peripheral vision after that. He saw it and he looked away. He turned the lights out that night, all of them, hoping desperately that the darkness couldn’t trick him the way the light did. Still, his room illuminated in purple glow. He covered the mirror in the bathroom despite knowing that just behind his reflection lurked something that was not real and was not there. He closed his eyes and saw purple, purple, purple.

Tonight felt different, somehow, like fallen dew rather than ceaseless fog. Scar took a determined breath, not with less energy, but energy more focused. The air, now that he was just above the tree-line, seemed to breathe with him in powerful and controlled movements. The lights were on below him. Normally he wasn’t one to waste power, but he was facing this thing tonight if it killed him, and if it killed him, it wouldn’t really matter if he left the fridge open and the oven preheated. One more deep breath.

He found the spot in his peripheral as easily as breathing. It tried to flicker. He didn’t let it. A fraction of a degree at a time, he dragged his eye towards it, somehow forgetting its small, humanoid shape even as it lingered on in the center of his vision, form held together with spiderwebs and moth wings. Scar’s eyes burned but he didn’t dare blink. He could see them. A short, humanoid shape radiating purple and purple and purple. It was the inverse of blinding, nearly drowned out by its own afterimage, a bruise of light covering what Scar was certain was its face although he had to check a second time to make sure, the memories of what it looked like slipping past him like sand through fingers, vanishing the second he wasn’t actively thinking about it. He stared it straight in its eyes, or, where he thought its eyes should be, or, where he had already been staring and now could not remember why. He spoke, finally, for what he did not realize was the first time in a week.

“You.”

And it responded, in a voice as fragile and momentary as the wind chimes he used to keep on his porch,

“You see me?”

Or did it say, “So you can see me,” or, “I’m sorry,” or, “Was this it? Was this what you wanted? What you waited for, for so long, so very, very long?”

Or maybe it said nothing at all. Maybe he just imagined it. It had fallen through his fingers. The words were sand.

“Yes,” he answered, not remembering the question.

With a shaking hand he reached towards the bruise in his vision, palm up and terrified.

“You really shouldn’t be able to see me…” the thing muttered (but maybe didn’t), reaching forward with its own hand. Palm down, landing hesitantly on Scar’s. Their hands touched, and with the sound of glass wind chimes and an hourglass breaking in reverse, the haze shattered, reabsorbed into this newly material being like a lizard eating its own shed skin. Scar blinked. The thing, now visible and rememberable as a short, blonde man with two eyes (purple) and, in fact, an entire face typical of a person. The wings were new, though.

He looked down at their hands, still held, and dragged a thumb across the back of the man’s hand, remembering the texture; rough, but not calloused, like he maybe needed some lotion.

“How?” It asked, and this time it stuck in the world, echoing across the roof.

This time Scar didn’t answer. “Who are you?”

The man with wings hesitated. A second too long, and a new voice spoke, from no determinable source.

“Alright, sunrise, that’s enough.”

This voice shot clean through the world, a practiced arrow leaving no entry or exit wound. In fact, Scar was certain no one had spoken at all.

He looked back at the man whose hand he held. He was not there. Had he ever been there?

-🦕

OHH this was fun , i doodled bc the part abt Scar making two meals stuck out to me

#ask #grian #the crafting dead #evo smp #goodtimeswithscar #gtws #sketching #my art #grians eating rice and fish <3 i ate that the other night #i didnt expect watcher mum to show up AUGH

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seungmoonandstars · 6 months

Text

𝒮𝑒𝒸𝑜𝓃𝒹 𝒟𝒶𝓉𝑒

Kim Seungmin/Female Reader

wc: 7.1k

rating: Mature, NON-explicit (part 2)

→ PART ONE

Part 2 of 4

The sun is coming through the trees and leaving freckles of light over Seungmin’s face and chest. His eyes are closed, hands propping him up as he leans back and stares up at the sky.

You’ve been meaning to ask the question bouncing around in your head for several minutes, but you can’t stop staring at him like this. You reach out and gently shake his foot until he looks at you.

“Hey, sorry…I didn’t mean to get quiet.”

- Seungmin is tired.

Car rides are his worst enemy if he’s trying to stay awake, especially if he ends up in the backseat. His head keeps swaying side to side. The ride is far too smooth, and he feels like a baby being lulled to sleep.

The car turns left, then right, then right again. He doesn’t need to feel it come to a stop to know he’s home.

As happy as he is to finally be done with traveling—for now, he doesn’t think he has the energy to get himself back on two feet.

He hits his neatly made bed immediately. No unpacking, no snack, no checking text messages. There is zero time between thinking about sleep and passing out; there is only a deep dreamless sleep.

____

It’s dark and warm in his room when he wakes up. His eyes stay closed tight, but he can feel how late it is. He knows he’s been sleeping far too long. Nobody bothered waking him for dinner or checking up on him, because that would have been useless. He doesn’t even mind that he missed the Giants game.

He feels much better now, until he looks down at his phone to check the time. The first problem is it’s already past midnight. The second problem is he has 43 notifications to open.

Seungmin scans over them to see if he missed anything important. Most of them look deletable, but a few he duly notes, and definitely needs to answer in the morning.

He opens the text from Choonhee, though.

Are you here for the long weekend?

He doesn’t mind texting her this late. He sends back a quick response without much thought: “I’m here until Wednesday!

Time to shower and eat.

Seungmin stands in the shower for a good fifteen minutes—clearing his mind, easing the tension he always holds in his shoulders— before finally, somewhere in the back of his memory, the part where he puts things and never ever remembers them…he remembers something.

“Oh…” he cups his face in his hands and scrubs at his cheeks, “shit.”

He takes his time getting out. An extra half an hour accidentally ignoring you isn’t going to make much of a difference now. Hair gets dried; fresh clothes thrown on. He clicks the fan in his bedroom so it pushes the warm air around. The cool night air is at least trying to find it’s way in.

Now he notices how hungry he is. Might as well find something in the kitchen before getting into a conversation. One that goes well, hopefully.

A bowl of oi-muchim, a beer, and his phone in hand, Seungmin makes himself comfortable on the couch. He pulls up Choonhee’s text messages again and hopes she still awake…

“Is it too late to text her? Do you think she’s up?”

He sends it off and tries not to watch his phone for her reply. He clicks the tv on and eats, but before his second bite, his phone goes off.

She won’t mind if it’s you

Seungmin hopes Choonhee’s right. And hopes you’ll still actually want to speak after two months of accidental silence.

Now he puts his food down, drinks some of his beer, and thinks…”what am I supposed to say at one in the morning?” He mumbles it to himself. But he starts typing anyway, letting his thumbs and his heart do the work. If he thinks too much, nothing will ever come out.

“Hey, I’m sorry I’m texting you so late. And also sorry for not getting back to you sooner. I hope you can forgive me. I’m in town for a few days if you’re interested in seeing each other.”

He reads it and rereads it. Then sends it away. It’s the best he can do.

The rest of the night is nothing but a long wait. The nap he took served perfectly as a good nights sleep, so the next few hours are spent catching up on baseball highlights, finishing a drama, and then silently obsessing over whether or not he’ll get a text back while a new show plays out in front of him .

At 7:30, Seungmin’s phone buzzes in his hand. He’s sound asleep, but still holding onto it. It wakes him right away, but it takes a moment before he can remember where he is, and what he’s doing there. Too much sleep makes his head fuzzy, and yesterday and this morning must have been a combined eleven hours.

He looks at the notification and remembers. Only the name on the screen registers in his mind before he unlocks his phone and sits up. He shakes the sleep from his head and rubs his eyes before reading…

I would love to see you

A sigh of relief. You’re not mad. Seungmin’s heartbeat picks up in his chest as he types.

“Tonight? Or today. Any time is good.”

This reply takes a little longer. He gets up to change just in case he has to run out the door to meet you. Your reply comes a few minutes later. Seungmin reads it as he’s jumping into his shorts.

I’m free all day. Do you want to come over for breakfast?

“Come over for breakfast? Are you going to make me breakfast?” he thinks out loud. He’s hoping that’s what you mean.

“I’ll be there in an hour”

____

Your internal alarm hates you. At precisely 7:25, you’re awake. Even on the weekends, you can’t sleep in. It takes a couple of minutes before you can even think about moving, but the warmth in the room and the sun peeking in eventually forces you up. You can only take so much.

Your phone, charging on the nightstand, buzzes softly. Probably an email. It buzzes again. You thought you put it on sleep mode last night, but maybe not. It’s a miracle nothing woke you up. You grab it and unplug it…

Email Spam email Work email you never opened or cleared Instagram

Text from Seungmin

“Seungmin,” you say his name out loud in case you’re still a little bit asleep. Seungmin, who you haven’t had a text from in months; who has probably been very busy and very tired when he isn’t busy, sent you a text at one in the morning.

You open it quickly, butterflies in your stomach, and read. You read it a few times. His texts are always a little longer, never one or two words. And you always read him in his voice. You’ve listened to him singing and speaking enough now that you hear it in your sleep. You don’t have to think much about your reply.

“I would love to see you”

____

There’s little time to pick up the apartment and figure out what you’re going to make for him. You do your best with what little time you have. Shower, hair, makeup…outfit. You probably should have given yourself a little more time. Too late now, he’ll be on his way soon.

It’s been nearly seven months since your blind date, but it doesn’t feel like it’s been that long. The time between his last text and today somehow felt longer. You feel like it’s going to be a first impression all over again, so you really want to give him your best. Maybe even better than last time, now that you know what you’re getting into.

In the kitchen, you start pulling things out to make, and you’re relieved to find you have something to cook for him.

You hope he likes American breakfast. You do know he likes coffee. Just a few days ago a care package came from your parents; coffee, snacks…things you miss from home. You pull out the bag of beans and start grinding.

Minutes later, or at least it feels like minutes, (the full hour, plus 20 extra minutes, has passed) you hear you phone buzz. Before you can get to it, the intercom buzzes. You grab your phone and run to the door.

“Hi I’m here”

You smile at his message and let him into the lobby before texting back, “543.” You’re surprised and a little flattered that he remembered where your building was and was confident enough to come without even confirming.

He sends a smiling emoji in reply.

Your back is against the door, eyes closed. Your picturing him walking to the elevator, pushing the button, waiting…

The elevator here is pretty slow…

He gets on and hits the 5th floor button. It comes straight up without stopping, considering the early hour. Everyone else in this building is definitely sleeping in. He turns right and walks, maybe a little hesitantly, toward your apartment, looks at the number on the door, then at your text.

He knocks gently. Three soft little knocks. You take in a deep breath; you’re more nervous than you thought you’d be. The deadbolt clicks.

When you crack the door he’s smiling down at you. You pull it open the rest of the way and stand there awkwardly for a moment. You feel like one of your eight-year-olds trying to find the right words in English. You stupidly breath out a wow and desperately hope he didn’t hear it

He stands there with one hand in the pocket of his shorts. The other hand is holding a paper bag. He swings it a little as he takes a careful step over your threshold.

“Morning.” You finally manage to say.

“Good morning,” he closes the door behind him, and his smile grows as he moves closer to you.

His face looks a little different. It’s been long enough that you’re thinking his braces have changed his smile, or maybe he’s just gotten older. The spring sun has turned his skin a few shades darker compared to October. His hair is dark and straight across his forehead; different then the last time you saw him. You’ve also gotten used to seeing him only in videos and photos. None of that does him justice. In front of you, he’s better—and you forgot how much better.

“Are you okay?” Seungmin reaches his hand toward you as if he’s going to touch your cheek, but he stops just short of you, and his hand falls slowly.

“Yeah, yeah…sorry,” you set your hand on your face where his hand should have been. “I uhhm,” you still can’t seem to find the right words. So much for a new first impression. Now what?

You put your other hand around his waist and pull yourself to him. You’re relieved when he reciprocates the embrace. He holds onto you for a while, not letting up on his grip.

“I’m sorry I didn’t keep in touch.”

Even though you had plenty of old texts to return to; to re-convince yourself that Seungmin liked you and wanted to see you again, you still needed this physical reassurance. The last two months were a lot more lonely than you care to admit, and part of you was starting to let go.

“It’s okay, I know you’re busy.”

“Still a bad excuse.” He loosens his hold on you, but doesn’t let go completely. The bag he’s holding shakes a little in his hand. “I brought this for you.”

“Another gift? You’re making me look bad.” You slide away from his grip (very reluctantly) and head toward the kitchen.

“Well, you did make me coffee. It smells good.”

Seungmin follows closely behind. The kitchen is a little bit of a mess, but cooking and cleaning at the same time is not one of your strong suits. You grab a few things and toss them in the trash, the sink, the dishwasher. You don’t even realize he’s right behind you until you turn again to grab two clean glasses.

“I can bring you your coffee. It’s a mess in here, you don’t need to see this.”

“Oh I don’t mind. You are definitely a messy cook, though. You should clean as you go!”

“Believe me, I try.” You pour the cooled coffee into a glass over ice. “I hope you like this…have you ever had Kona coffee?”

Seungmin shakes his head and smiles. You briefly wonder if he realizes how cute it is, then you pour some for yourself, “I’m sure you’ll like it.” He takes it from you and follows as you lead him out of the kitchen and into the living room.

You sit. He sits, and sips his coffee, then adjusts so he’s a little closer to you.

“How long have you been in town?” You bring your knees up to your chest and turn your body to him.

“I got in yesterday afternoon, but I fell asleep and woke up very late.”

“Oh, that explains the late text.”

“Yes, hopefully it didn’t wake you. Choonhee told me you wouldn’t mind if I texted you so late.”

“It didn’t wake me up. It was a nice surprise this morning.”

He’s bouncing his legs up and down; knees are moving together, then apart, then together again. A nervous tick, maybe. All you do know is that the movement of his thighs is distracting. You tear your eyes away, and when you do, he’s looking at you.

“How have you been?” He asks, and he’s not just making conversation. The way he speaks is sincere. “Anymore blind dates?” He whispers the last part.

“Oh, no…no,” you stare into your coffee and shake your head. “Nothing special, not since our date.”

He smiles, but says nothing.

“I did keep up with you. I caught a few of your lives, checked YouTube for new videos…”

Seungmin laughs and lays his head back against the couch, “next time we don’t see each other for a while, I will call, and we can have a real live.”

“Is that a promise?”

He thinks for a moment, “yes, promise. I’ll be a better texter…also.” He adjusts and moves himself a little closer to you.

“I’ll take either.”

“I think I just…don’t know what to say sometimes. I don’t want to say something stupid, so I don’t say anything at all. And then I forget.”

“I don’t mind if you say something stupid.” You reach out and move a piece of hair out of Seungmin’s eyes. “I’d prefer it, actually. Then I can say something stupid back.”

He tilts his head and his hair falls back over his eyes. “Good to know.”

“Are you hungry?” You move his hair again.

He looks at you without answering for a very long moment. His eyes are impossibly big and dark; bottom lip a little bit red from biting down on it. Your eyes jump from the beauty mark on his cheek (you’re also thinking about how nice it is to finally see him again without makeup), to his eyes, his nose, his lips. His hair swings back down in front of his eyes.

He brings his hand up and attempts to fix his hair, but he just shakes his head again and smiles, “yes, I am. Very hungry.”

“I guess you can help me finish up,” you reach for his hand, which he happily takes, and lead him back to the kitchen. You prepped everything, but wanted it to be fresh when you sat down to eat.

“What are we having?” He looks at the counter. Four thick slices of bread and a bowl of something milky, eggs. “Oh these I can do,” Seungmin picks up an egg and holds it next to his face. “I can fry a good egg.”

“Okay, that’s your job.” You freshen his coffee while he examines the half dozen eggs in front of him. “Make however many you want.”

“Can I make all of them?”

“Yeah,” you laugh, “I have more if that’s not enough.”

“French toast?” He examines the milky batter next to the slices of bread. “I’ve had it before, but not for a very long time.”

“Is that okay? I can always make something else.” You turn the burner on low and let the pan get warm.

“No, I want to try your french toast.”

You reach for the butter, taking great care to reach around him by placing your hand on the belt of his shorts. He watches you closely as you dip each slice of bread into the batter, and when the butter melts completely, place them neatly in the pan.

“Nice sizzle,” he whispers. And then he laughs when you laugh. “Oh, I’m doing the eggs…” He turns his burner on low, butters his pan, and cracks four of the six eggs.

Seungmin looks at you, “I don’t want to crowd them.” He nods his head at two intact eggs. “They can wait.”

“You’re the expert.”

“They will be good, I promise.”

“Even if they’re bad, I’m sure I’ll love them.”

You hear him laugh as you tend to the French toast, shaking on the cinnamon, flipping them when they’re just crispy and brown. Seungmin ooohs at them as he seasons his eggs.

“Do you prefer maple syrup or…honey?”

“Hm?” He flips the eggs carefully and takes them off the heat before turning to the selection of toppings you’re setting out.

“Can you turn my burner off?”

He clicks it off, and Seungmin finds his way to the cupboard to get a plate. He gently sets his finished eggs onto it and cracks the remaining ones into the warm pan.

“Do you like maple syrup, or do you want honey?”

“Oh…maple syrup! And strawberries.”

“And whipped cream?”

“Dessert for breakfast…” he takes one of the strawberries and bites into it.

____

You have one dining table in your tiny apartment. It has two chairs, and it’s right next to the large picture window that sits just between the kitchen and the living room. Outside is a limited view of the city. It’s nice, though. And you can afford it.

Seungmin is watching the city slowly start to move, chin resting in the palm of his hand. He has a smile on his face–it’s very subtle on his lips, but not in his eyes. You made him sit while you got the rest of the food ready, and eventually, he listened.

“Is this enough strawberries?”

He looks at you first and smiles, then at his plate. “Yes, thank you,” he waits for you to sit before whispering jal meokgetseumnida and when you pick up your fork, he follows. Seungmin opted for maple syrup, strawberries, whipped cream. He goes for the whipped cream first, eating a forkful by itself.

“Did you make this, too?” He takes another bite of it, this time with a big piece of strawberry.

You nod.

“It’s very good, it’s not too sweet.” He cuts into his French toast now, getting a bite of all three at once.

“If everything is too sweet, it ruins it.”

“Sometimes…” he says in a singsong voice, almost a whisper.

You sneak glances at him between your own bites. He’s a quiet eater this morning, but you’re comfortable sitting there with him in the silence.

“How has work been?”

“Kind of crazy.” He takes a drink of his coffee, “we will be in Japan in two weeks, and then to the US after that.” Seungmin nods to himself and divides the four eggs between you.

They do look perfect and exactly how you usually make them. Over-easy. “That’s exciting…but I’m sure it’s very exhausting.”

He picks one up and shoves the entire thing in his mouth. You can tell he wants to speak as soon as he does it, but he chews patiently. “I wouldn’t want to do anything else, but some days it is a lot. And very tiring.”

He rests his face in his hands again. He finished his food. Now he’s looking at you with the same tired eyes he’s given you before.

“Thank you for making time for me.” You say.

He sits back in his seat, smiles, shakes his head a little.

You look at him questioningly. His mannerism are cute, but you’re not quite sure how to interpret them sometimes. “What is it?”

“I’m happy to be here.”

“You are?” When you stand to clean off the table, he stands with you to help. You let him.

“Yes,” he bites into another strawberry when he gets to kitchen sink with his dishes. “I like you. You're...you're relaxing to be around. I don't feel any pressure here."

You look at him and smile, unsure of how to respond at first. "Thank you." It's not enough of a reply, you know that, but you're a little lost for words.

"Is that a weird thing to say?"

"No! Not at all. It might be the sweetest complement a date has ever given me."

Seungmin follows you wordlessly to the living room, and sits when you sit. You move a little closer to him and relax, hoping he continues to mimic you. And he does.

“Can I ask you something…um,” he purses his lips as he thinks, covers his cheeks with his hands. “Something personal I guess. Kind of. Maybe not really personal but-”

“Yes, of course you can.” You take one of his hands away from his face and hold it in yours. It’s starting to feel like the first date, except now he seems a little different than last time. Maybe he’s worn out from performing. Maybe it’s just an off day.

He’s looking down at his hand clasped in yours, “do you ever feel like, um…I guess it’s hard to put into English.”

“That’s okay, we can use whatever words feel best for you.”

Seungmin can’t help but smile at that, and a tiny laugh escapes. “I almost forgot, you teach kids. You do sound like a teacher.”

“Oh, I’m sorry! I mean…whichever language.” You pull his hand closer to you and put your other hand over it. “I’m sure between us we can figure it out.”

“You’re so sweet.”

“What’s bothering you?” You squeeze his hands even harder.

“I don’t know if you will, but if you ever meet my friends…the other members.” He stops for a moment to look at you.

You nod at him, but at the same time you’re completely unprepared for that statement. Meeting his friends? It's a big jump from where you're at right now.

“I guess I’m worried you might like them more than you like me.” His head falls back on the couch and he covers his eyes with his free hand. He sighs loudly.

“Why would you think that?” You pull him closer and shake him a little, “Seungmin…Seungmin, what do they call you when they don’t call you Seungmin?”

You get him to laugh, at least.

“Minnie,” he looks at you through his fingers. He says it again under his breath. “Min…puppy.”

“Puppy?” you scoot even closer to him, until you can almost set your chin on his shoulder. "Puppy."

He closes the gap a little.

Your forehead is almost touching his. You hold his eyes there. Then you kiss the bridge of his nose.

He leans forward and sets his head in the space between your neck and shoulder. His hair is tickling your ear, and his lips are brushing against your skin. You’re certain he can hear your blood pumping through your veins.

He lets out a long sigh. You don’t really want to say anything, you’d prefer it if the two of you could just stay like this for a little bit longer. And suddenly thinking of him leaving again (for another six months, maybe) gives you a horrible sinking feeling in your stomach.

But you need to talk to him.

“Why do you think that?”

He’s quiet for a few seconds as he searches for the right words. “There are eight of us…and sometimes I end up feeling, uhm…”

There's a long pause while you both think. He's searching for the words; you're searching his mind and his face.

”Do you feel like you're stuck behind everyone sometimes?” You think that’s what he’s getting at. You can see it in his eyes.

”Yes, I guess so. I mean, I know I am not as popular.”

It’s a hard comment for you to respond to, but the sad smile on his face makes you a little angry. Not at him, just at every single person outside of your apartment.

“Well, you’re my favorite.”

A hesitant smile appears.

Your hands close around either side of his face, and you graze your fingertips over his ears, “I’m sure the others are great, and I’m sure I could be friends with them someday...but they’re not you, and I already told you we wouldn’t make very good friends.”

You’re not sure why him being vulnerable and honest is suddenly, making you so bold, but you’re not going to question it. He’s quiet and calm as you speak, so you must be doing something right.

“I wouldn’t want anyone else here with me.” You hope he believes you, but you also aren’t a stranger to the hesitant feelings he’s obviously processing. “And I wish you could stay.”

“I can stay today!”

____

Seungmin falls asleep on your couch again. This time, though, he’s lying comfortably with his face shoved into one of your pillows and his curled up legs are almost on your lap. It’s a small couch.

You put a movie on, but he didn’t last more than a half an hour. It’s been two hours now, and you really don’t want to wake him. You’re certain he’ll get up on his own soon.

The kitchen is clean, the movie is over. You’re a little tired yourself, honestly, but you don’t think you could fall asleep while he’s here and almost in your lap. He’s a quiet sleeper, and he’s hardly moved, but you can hear his big sighs every few times he exhales.

He shifts a little when your hand touches his leg, but he settles back down immediately, and is out again. Even when your palm slides over his skin, he doesn’t move.

The soft buzz of his phone doesn’t wake him, either. But it’s going off again, and it’s the third time. You’re wondering if it’s important, but you don’t want to pry.

You run your hand over his leg again. Still nothing. It goes off again—this time it’s ringing. You can see the name on the screen without looking very hard.

“Seungmin…” You whisper. This time you gently drag your fingertips across his skin. “Seungmin?”

A little groan. His leg stretches out across your thigh. You squeeze his calf a bit and he seems to react, but not enough, so you gently move him and get up.

“Seungmin?” You kneel down until you’re face to face with him. He looks so peaceful and content, and while you hate to disturb him, you’re kind of looking forward to him slowly waking up. Saying his name isn’t getting through, though, so you place the tip of your finger at his temple and lightly trace a line down the side of his face.

A raspy mmm is all you get in return.

You bury your fingers in his hair and comb through it, kneading into his scalp a little. “Minnie?” You move down toward his neck, knead a little more, this time into a soft part of his shoulder.

His eyes open slowly, eyelashes fluttering a bit as they readjust to the sunlight in the room. He looks around before his gaze settles on you, and for the briefest moment he seems lost. But then he remembers where he is, and he smiles at you.

“Hi,” his voice is sleepy and raspy, like he hasn’t used it in a long time. He closes his eyes again.

“No no, eyes open.”

“I’m awake,” he mumbles.

“Look at me,” you lean toward his face until your noses are almost touching.

Eyes open again and he blinks a few times. “Are you gonna kiss me?” He asks, and the sleepiness in his voice is unbearable.

Yes, if he wants you to, you will kiss him. You lick your lips. But first, “your mom is calling you.”

“Oh, she’s probably wondering why she hasn’t seen me since I got home.”

“Do you want me to call and tell her you’re busy?”

Seungmin laughs and finally seems to be fully awake. He shakes his head and slowly sits himself up. “Do I have bedhead?” He rubs his eyes and runs his hands through his hair.

“A little bit.” You comb a hand through it and fix his part, “it’s cute, though.”

“Nooo it’s not,” he flattens it more and lays back against the couch. “I’m sorry I fell asleep.”

“You apologize too much.”

“Do I?”

You nod and sit down next to him, “I’m glad you were comfortable enough here to fall asleep.”

“Did I snore?” He looks a little embarrassed.

“No, you were pretty quiet. You kicked a few times, though.”

He almost apologizes, but stops himself and picks up his phone. He reads through his messages and eventually types a reply to one of them. Then he turns to you, “what should we do now that I’m well rested? Are you tired?” He throws his phone down and turns the rest of his body to you, “did you sleep at all?”

“I didn’t sleep, but I’m fine.”

“Maybe you should rest,” he smiles and tilts his head. “I can leave for a while and come back, if you’d like.”

“No, I don’t want you to leave.”

He nods, “We can try another movie,” Seungmin relaxes on the couch, pillow at his side, and extends an arm. “And if you fall asleep, we’ll be even.”

You stare at him for a long moment. It’s not until he beckons you with his hand that you realize it’s an invitation to cuddle up to him. And you take it without another moment of hesitation.

Your cheek settles against his chest, open hand spread out over his stomach. He wraps an arm around your shoulder and pulls you in a little tighter.

“Are you comfortable?” He grazes his fingertips over your forearm, very slowly, as if he’s still testing the limit of touch between you.

“I am.” You feel the goosebumps jump up on your skin, and Seungmin runs his fingers over you again, like he notices.

He does notice. You hear a breathy little laugh come from him. “Good.”

Now you think you could definitely fall asleep. He’s warm, but a good warm; not like the summer heat moving around the room. You push your face further into the space under his arm and inhale.

“What should we try to watch? Maybe something funny.”

He browses through Netflix. Meanwhile, you can feel yourself slowly slipping into sleep. But you don’t want to fall asleep. Sleeping now would just be wasted time with Seungmin, so you adjust yourself and sit up a little more.

He sits up, too. His eyes are big and a little worried.

“I don’t want to fall asleep.”

“Okay, how can we keep you awake then?”

You stare at him thoughtlessly for a few seconds. Then you feel like maybe you’re blushing because he probably (probably?) isn’t thinking the same thing your sexually frustrated mind is thinking. Now you can’t get the thought out of your head. You try not to breath out like you’ve just been holding your breath for too long.

He grins a little, so you think the thought may have crossed his mind after he said it. But he stays quiet.

“Maybe we can…go for a walk,” you say it as you exhale and then take a steady breath in. At the same time, your brain is slowly unbuckling his belt and lifting his shirt. “We should go for a walk.”

“Okay, that sounds nice.”

____

It’s warm out, but not enough to be uncomfortable.

You changed into something to show a little more skin, because you might as well try to get his mind where yours is. He may not even be interested in going there.

“So, are you allowed to date yet?” It comes out before you even decide if it’s a good thing to bring up.

Seungmin giggles. You look at him and see him covering his mouth with his hand, but the smile in his eyes is obvious.

“Sorry, that came out of nowhere…”

“It’s alright. You can ask me anything you want,” he shoves his hands in his pockets and slows his walk a bit.

“Okay, I’ll just throw questions at you as I think of them.”

“Good,” he stops and bounces on the balls of his feet, “ we should get some boba.”

You were already concerned about Seungmin being recognized on your walk, and going into a boba place seems like the most obvious way for him to be seen. But you’re not going to tell him no.

“Maybe I should go in and get us both something, it seems a little busy in there.”

“If that makes you feel better, yes.”

“It doesn’t. I just don’t want you to get any unwanted attention.”

“I think I’ll be okay,” He brushes his hand against your arm and leads you across the street. “I’m not as popular or recognizable as you might think.”

“I don’t believe that.”

“If nobody expects to see me, they’ll miss me,” he hops up on the curb like a kid. It feels like he becomes more and more relaxed as the day goes on. “But…” he pulls a black face mask from his back pocket and loops it around his ears. “I’ll be much happier if you’re more comfortable.”

____

The sun is coming through the trees and leaving freckles of light over Seungmin’s face and chest. His eyes are closed, hands propping him up as he leans back and stares up at the sky.

“Hey, sorry…I didn’t mean to get quiet.”

“I have a question.”

He sits up fully and smiles, “oh I never answered you before. No dating. Openly. Technically.” He says it like he’s not sure if he’s using his English words correctly. “Maybe that wasn’t the question.”

“It wasn’t, but I did want to know that, too.” You sip your drink and think about your question again. You had it ready to go, but Seungmin said the word openly and you lost it. “Do you know that I’m older than you?”

“No, I didn’t know. But I don’t mind.” He gets on his hands and knees and crawls closer to you. “If you don’t mind that I’m younger.”

A breeze picks up and his hair is swept across his forehead. He tousles it a little until his bangs fall back in front of his eyes.

You shake your head. “No, I don’t,” the question starts forming in your head again. “Would you ever consider dating, uhm, me? I mean, let’s say you weren’t who you are and we still somehow met. Is that something you’d…consider?

Seungmin looks at you, and his eyes have certainly never been this big before. His ears and cheeks are slowly turning red. And he’s quiet. His mouth opens a bit, but no words come out. You’re afraid you asked the stupidest question you could have possibly thought of.

You made it weird.

“You don’t have to answer. I’m sorry. Please pretend I never said that.” You lift your knees to your chest and bury your face in the space there. You whimper a little to yourself and hope he doesn’t hear it.

“That’s a tough one.”

You can’t see his face, but you can imagine it.

In reality, he’s thinking and playing with his straw. Still blushing, still smiling. If you’d just lift your head and look at him, you’d see that he’s unable to contain his smirk.

“Let’s go back to you looking up at the sky and me not talking.” You relax as much as possible and your back gently hits the grass. You spread yourself out, hoping to sink into the ground.

“No,” he sips his drink and leans back on one hand. “You asked, now it’s out there forever.”

You peek up at him briefly and see his face in the sun again; eyes closed but smirk still tugging at his lips. Quiet and thoughtful.

“Seungmin?”

No answer. You look back at the sky, but you can hear him moving and getting closer. His shadow blocks the sun from your eyes, so you open them.

“Yeah?”

“It’s okay if you wouldn’t.”

Still no answer. Your eyes close again, and then he lays down next to you. It’s a nice moment, or it would be. The birds are singing and there’s the sound of the wind through the trees. The only other people around are far enough away that you can barely hear them.

You feel like you could cry.

Maybe he just isn’t very good at letting people down. He can’t find the right words to tell you it would never work, and that’s understandable, really. He’s sweet and thoughtful and kind. He doesn’t want to hurt you. He just wants to be friends.

You cover you eyes with both hands and sigh as quietly as possible.

“I would, but…I don’t know…” he hmmms and uumms a few times. “Nobody has ever asked me out before.”

“I don’t believe that.”

“You don’t believe much.”

"If that's true, it's because you're intimidating."

"Me?" He's trying not to laugh. "I'm not intimidating! Am I? Is it my face? Do I look angry?"

"Okay, wrong word to use. You're too handsome to approach, I mean. I would have never, on my own, started a conversation with you had I seen you at that coffee shop by yourself."

Now you sit up and shade him from the sun. There’s a stray eyelash on his cheek, so you lean forward to gently blow it off.

His eyes flutter open. "I am not too handsome to approach." He whispers and lets himself laugh out loud.

“Okay fine…so I’m your first.”

“So you’re not taking it back?”

“You mentioned meeting your friends earlier. Did I interpret that wrong?”

He shakes his head.

“Then no, I guess I’m not taking it back.”

----

The trip back is not awkward. You expected him to keep his distance, physically and mentally, but he walks almost shoulder to shoulder with you the entire time. He hasn’t given you any type of answer yet, but you’re not worried about it. Part of you still wants to take it back and let things flow at a slower pace. This is, after all, only your second date. The other part of you is already on fire. It’s a tough line to walk.

Inside the apartment it’s gotten much warmer, and you regret not starting the AC before leaving. It’ll take forever to cool down now. You close the windows, lower the shades, and pull the curtains closed. Then you head to the couch and collapse onto it.

Seungmin makes himself at home by heading to the bathroom, then finding himself (and you) something cold to drink. You’re too distracted to even care that he’s digging around in your messy fridge.

“I forgot about this,” he grabs the bag from the side table and dangles it in front of his face. “Your gift.”

You sit up against the arm rest and smile at him, “thank you, Seungmin.” Inside is a small yellow dog plush. “Oh, it’s you!” You squeeze him and adjust the hoodie he’s wearing before bringing him up to your face. “Was he yours?”

“Yeah, he was mine.”

“He smells like you.”

“Is that a good thing?” He sits down by your folded legs and sets a hand just above your knee.

He’s touchy today...almost as much as you. And for never being properly asked out (now you wonder what else he hasn’t experienced), he knows just what to do to make you squirm.

You sit up a little more, bumping his hand off of you by mistake. He pulls it back a little, so you reach out and take it in yours. “Yeah, it is.”

He squeezes your hand and pulls you closer so he can place a kiss on your lips. You kiss back, but your brain takes a second to catch up with your mouth. When it finally does, you kiss hard enough to force him back against the couch.

Seungmin is better in action than he is with words today.

He doesn’t struggle against you or ease up, but pushes on with just as much enthusiasm.

You don’t know what to do with your hands, though. You have a lot of options. Through the hair? No. Neck? Maybe, but you don’t want to be too rough at this angle, and he might not be into that. Face? It’s a good option, and his cheeks are soft and nice to touch. And it's not too much.

Before you can decide, he takes your other hand and pulls until you have no choice but to swing a leg over his lap. And then his hands are on either side of your thighs.

You pull back and look at him.

He stares back, catching his breath. “I’m sorry I’m so bad at answering your questions.”

“You don’t have to.” You let your hands wander over his chest and down his sides. He squirms just a little; probably ticklish. When your hands settle on his belt, you lean in to kiss him again. On his lips, over his cheek. “I shouldn’t have put that on you.”

“I’m glad you did,” he looks down at your hands. “It was nice to be thought of like that. It felt good.”

“If I can see you again, that’s enough for me.”

“Is it?”

It really isn’t, but you decided on the walk back that anything with Seungmin would be okay. “If it’s what you can give me, yeah.”

Your needy, clingy heart feels like it’s crumbling, but you do your best to keep it from showing on your face.

“I can’t promise much, but I can try.”

You kiss him again, and without thinking it through properly; without thinking at all, really, you slide your fingers down and over the zipper of his shorts and feel the significant bulge that you somehow didn’t notice before.

Seungmin’s tiny oh and his hand wrapping around the offending wrist makes your stomach sink. His eyes are wide and fixed on you.

“Shit, I’m sorry,” you gently push yourself away from him and sit against the opposite side of the couch, hands covering your red face. “I’m sorry. I wasn’t thinking…”

“It’s okay,” he giggles and adjusts himself, and you watch from behind one hand as he runs a palm between his thighs. “Please don’t be upset, you didn’t do anything wrong.” His voice softens as he speaks, and the last part is a barely audible whisper, “it was my fault.” But the grin on his face only sharpens. He’s looking down at his hands as they nervously fidget with the hem of his shorts.

“Was that uh, a first, too?” You regret asking it as soon as it leaves your mouth.

He doesn’t answer right away. You’re worried he feels embarrassed about it. And you feel weird for bringing it up. The urge to get closer to him is kept under control for now.

“It’s no big deal, Minnie…if it was.”

Using his nickname breaks him from his trance, and he looks at you, blinks, nods. “Yeah, it was.”

“Did you want that? I mean, when you pulled me on top of you.” Now you scoot a little closer. “You can give me boundaries.”

“I got caught up in the moment.” He starts, thinking and picking his words carefully. “But I did want to kiss you like that.”

“Got it,” closer still, until your knee is brushing against his thigh. “You can always stop me if I go overboard. Sometimes I can be too much.”

“Is that bad? Too much is sometimes nice.”

“I guess it depends…”

You lean forward until your forehead can lay on his shoulder. His cheek rests on your head. You stay that way until you feel yourself relaxing and drifting into a half-sleep.

“I think it’s time to rest.” You don’t move, but Seungmin lifts his head.

“That’s a good idea,” He grabs the pillow to his right and puts it on your side of the couch. “Do you want me to stay?”

You lay back on the couch and sigh. “Yeah, I do. If you want to.”

“I do…move over.”

#kim seungmin #skz fluff #skz seungmin #skz x you #kim seungmin x reader #kim seungmin x y/n #seungmin x you #seungmin x reader #seungmin x y/n #stray kids fluff #kim seungmin fluff #kim seungmin x you #skz x reader #skz smut

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notjustjavierpena · 10 months

Note

Hate had me in a puddle.

… is there more??

Hurt

A/N: Oh, there’s always more if you ask nicely. This is a follow-up to Hate! Ravenous mean!Joel returns!

Summary: Joel accidentally makes you come after making it his mission for a month to not let you.

Pairing: Joel Miller x Reader/You (No y/n)

Tags: +18 Smut (MDNI!), dub-con, dirty talk, painful and rough piv sex, unprotected sex, creampie, choking, possessive joel, fingering

Word count: 1.4k

Link to this work on AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/48179338/chapters/122332696#workskin

Hurt

Joel comes back a few times that month after leaving you breathless and pathetically masturbating on the wooden floor of your home. He still takes and takes; fills you up, smacks your face if you get too close and leaves you with an unsatisfied throbbing cunt. It’s beginning to drive you up the wall, because you find yourself touching your cunt more often lately at the thought of him finally letting you squeeze around his cock during climax. You’d even had a day where your clit hurt in the end from your relentless pursuit of coming and coming and coming until your head swam and you could fall asleep without dreaming about his face.

Which makes it ironic that the next time that you see him is when he is hovering above you and disturbing your sleep. The ambush is going to happen in your bedroom this time, and you curse him for somehow already knowing that you are trying to make him stop haunting your dreams. Why else would he choose here and now?

It’s the middle of the night, so your pulse spikes as he wakes you, but before you can scream, he has a hand over your mouth and is ripping the covers off of you. He smiles devilishly as he realizes that you sleep naked, and you don’t want to think about how many scenarios that has just unlocked in his head.

“Hey pretty thing,” he growls whilst already undoing his belt and zipper to shove his jeans and underwear down to free his cock. You look down to see that it’s already hard and throbbing, wondering briefly if he has been debating with himself whether to break and enter or take care of it himself. He seems in a hurry so you guess that he has indeed been touching himself, much to your satisfaction, but his expression reveals that he is also angry. You like him angry.

By instinct, you let your legs fall to the side until your knees almost hit the mattress. Carefully, you reach up to peel the hand away from your mouth so you can let out a soft gasp as he enters you. His size hurts like always and causes your eyes to sting with tears. He is stretching your unprepared cunt out around every bump of the veins along his length.

You can feel yourself start to get wet as you take him in further, putting a hand on his chest to slow him down, but bracing yourself for his loss of patience that’ll eventually come.

“You’re gonna stop crying about this like you didn’t know it was coming,” he spits harshly as he bottoms out with a rough thrust of his hips. New tears spring to your eyes, but you rapidly blink them away, “That’s it, don’t let me see a single fucking tear on that face like you’re sorry.”

He brutally fucks you into the mattress with frustration in his moans. You get used to the pain quickly as your slick starts dripping from you, running out of you onto the bed with each pound of his cock. There’s no way of slowing him down anyway, each of his hands finding a knee and pinning your legs down so roughly that you think he might dislocate your hip joints.

“Fuck. What have I done now?” You rile him up, reaching down to hold his wrists and, hopefully, loosen his grip just a little by pulling. It doesn’t loosen whatsoever.

Something in his eyes go darker, one of them twitching slightly at the snarky comment that you’ve thrown his way. You gasp in relief as the hands move up, the left one on your hip to hold you down and his right one wrapping firmly around your neck. He squeezes, and that is certainly not what you had expected. Both of your hands come up to try and pull it away.

“You and your smart mouth,” he pushes his palm into your windpipe, watching your mouth fall open in a silent moan as he still drills into you, “The girls told me that you are going on patrol with that new guy. They were all stupid and giggly. Thinking of letting him fuck you in one of the safe houses, huh? That it, you little bitch?”

You shake your head with heavy lids, head swimming as the amount of oxygen going to your head has decreased significantly. He leans down further to intimidatingly get in your face, and suddenly his pelvis grinds against your mound, stimulating your clit. You cannot tell him due to actually choking slightly, but you have no intention of letting him know either way.

“Fuck you for even thinking in that stupid little brain of yours that you’re allowed to do that,” he flexes his hand on your throat to grip harder, causing you to moan loudly for just a second before it’s cut off again. He is spurred on by that, grinning maniacally into your face whilst moaning too.

The headboard starts slamming against the wall then, his pace dropping to something slower, but his thrusts are rougher, “Look at me… We are never gonna be wedding bells and domestic bliss, but you don’t ever let anyone else but me screw this pretty and fucking infuriating cunt.”

So that’s his deal; he doesn’t want you, but he doesn’t want anyone else to have and fuck you either. It makes you want to tell him that since he is the one coming each time you are the one screwing him.

Joel Miller is a fucking psycho.

A psycho that’s about to make you come with the desperate rhythm that he is keeping up, chasing something you guess is proof that he owns your body. He is panting above you, losing himself in the moment with you and not noticing the way that your body is climbing to a high - a thing that he has never allowed you.

If he doesn’t let go of your throat soon, you think you might pass out, but there’s no way that you are going to distract him from using you and hopefully, accidentally, making you see stars for once. You cannot bear the thought of finishing the night off by making yourself come and letting him leave like he was just a dream.

Then it happens, your face and chest going red as you feel yourself tip over the edge with him slamming into you. His hand lets go as the first signs of your orgasm hits him, and the sudden rush of adrenaline and oxygen to your brain has you sobbing out of pleasure to the point where people should come running to see if you’re in danger. You squeeze rhythmically and rapidly around his length, causing his eyes to widen as he realizes that he has made you climax and before he knows it, he is coming as well.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” he says to himself as he settles inside of you and fills you up like all the previous times. Though this time, you don’t feel like an object to use but rather a human being that he has melted together with. You wish you could read his mind in this moment. He looks taken aback by himself.

You try to catch your breath, whimpering as he quickly pulls out and frantically tucks himself away, so he can get dressed again. He doesn’t look at you before you reach down to hold a hand over your spent cunt, all red and puffy for him, pushing a finger inside yourself with a tiny gasp as you play with his come. God, you want a reaction.

“Stop,” he snaps. There’s conflict behind his eyes.

“What?” You continue fingering yourself, “Don’t you like me like this?”

“I’ll make it hurt,” he warns, “Don’t fucking try me.”

Hurt? You furrow your brow in confusion but Joel just settles between your spread legs again, batting your hand away. He shoves two fingers inside of you without mercy and causes you to moan with the over sensitivity that still has a hold of your body.

“I can’t stop now,” he says, expertly pressing the pads of his fingers up against your g-spot, “Gonna make it hurt real good now that I know how that look in your eye changes when you come.”

“Please, yes,” you lift your hips up from the bed slightly and his come seeps past his fingers and down onto the mattress.

“You won’t be saying yes forever,” he notes, setting up a rhythm that has you arching off the bed immediately, “You don’t have a clue what you’ve started. Now try to keep quiet or I’ll stuff my fist in your dumb mouth.”

#joel miller x reader #joel miller #joel miller x you #the last of us #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller fic #joel x reader #joel x you #my writing #pedro pascal characters #joel miller smut #joel miller fanfic #joel tlou #tlou #mean!joel

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brisquad-unit-4402 · 5 months

Note

Hey! If possible, could you write doppio dropscythe x reader dating headcanons? Maybe the reader is also a vtuber in nijisanji rn, but it’s a secret from the internet?

i had this draft since the cheftective era and haven’t touched it in a few months, i’m not so sure why, especially since it was almost done... if it seems dated then that's why. thank you for your patience anon, i loved writing for doppio! he's very difficult but very fun!

tags: established relationship, fluff, gender neutral reader, lore compliant, reader is a vtuber, reader is an xsoleil student, secret relationship/getting caught, pet names

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

🐣 Doppio Dropscythe

It's funny, because at a first glance, Doppio seems like the type of guy that takes what he wants. He's never shied away from who he is and wears his heart on his sleeve; one of the many reasons you fell for him.

But he doesn't. You collab often with him and you can tell there's something unsaid between you two, or something more underneath the surface-level entertainment. Something that goes beyond the audience's heads.

It's not quite a certainty but you're convinced you need to do something. It's just that as streamers, especially streamers that work under a corporation, you want to know exactly what to do.

You end up talking to Ver for advice. As the President of Xsoleil, he's a good listener, especially since you know how close he and Doppio are. He wouldn't dare judge you when his friend's own feelings are on the line as well as yours.

.　 . • ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊ ° . ☆

You enter the Xsoleil student council office. As expected, Ver swivels around in a big leather office chair that makes him look more imposing than his dorky-sweet-tooth personality ever could. "Reader, it's good to see you. I liked your stream last Friday. How can I help you?"

"Nothing business. I'm here to ask about Doppio."

At the mention of his name Ver leans back in his chair, and you tense. You explain yourself: how lucky you are to work with him, how wonderful of a man he is, and how much you care about him. It spills out of you like water in a strainer. You've kept your feelings bottled up for so long, and Ver has such an accepting energy that makes you want to uncover everything you've been hiding. After all, if anyone could give you approval and advice on your feelings about Doppio, it would be the president himself.

By the time you finish, however, he seems far less surprised than you expected. "You should tell him."

"But what if-"

"Just do it." He presses his fingers between his eyes like he's alleviating a headache. "Trust me on this one. Please. Hopefully if you do so within the next week, Meloco's earnings from the betting pool will go back into our funding."

Somehow, that doesn't surprise you, and you're too happy they approve to get frustrated. You request Ver's blessing. He obliges. "Not that you need it. We're just happy there's someone out there for him." Ver's eyes glint. "Treat him right. If you don't, I'll be very disappointed. And Kotoka will start a smear campaign on Instagram."

"Duly noted, Kaichou."

"And he'd be sad."

"Can you trust me too?" You ask. Ver nods. "That's the last thing I want to do. If we're going to do this, I want to make sure I give him everything he deserves."

"Good answer." He smiles, like everything's fallen into place. "I meant what I said, you didn't need my blessing, but you definitely have it now."

.　 . • ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊ ° . ☆

When you finally muster up the courage to ask Doppio out, it's like he forgets to talk. In fact, he does. He sputters out happy noises that don't even make up sentences for a solid minute before he remembers how to say "yes."

Doppio makes a lot of noises even when he does know how to talk, and it might be one of the most endearing things about him. You've lovingly started calling them Doppi-noises simply because no one reacts quite like how Doppi reacts. He’s so silly and there isn’t a single word in the English language to describe how silly he is.

He even talks to inanimate objects sometimes when he's alone. It's not much different from how he talks in front of others, but his voice is lower and gentler, and when he realizes you could hear him thank his oven for preheating and the mixing bowls for not spilling ingredients, he spouts out a flustered Doppi-noise with averted eyes and red along his face.

Hanging out with your boyfriend is never boring. He brings so much energy wherever he goes that anything becomes a story, including seemingly mundane things like studying.

Whenever you go grocery shopping he somehow always remembers that one thing you mentioned a few days ago that you wanted to buy but didn't put on the list, and buys it with his own money to give to you, but he doesn't remember to get his own stuff sometimes??

The amount of times Doppio bought you a snack or found a good deal on a candy you've been craving, but forgot to buy hand soap... he usually runs by himself to the store, grabs whatever he forgot, and then comes back to your door nearly out of breath.

Doppio always makes you laugh. He's so goofy when he tries to be, and so earnest when he's serious that his charm is never lost on you. He likes to make you smile.

On the days when your lives as Xsoleil students and streamers get too busy to pay attention to one another, you tend to watch his VODs while you work, and you can pretend like it's just another domestic day where you both tend to your own chores while still enjoying shared company.

You take a fifteen-minute break to reset your brain from working so hard, and you hear Doppio on stream offhandedly mention something with a giggle, and you cackle when you realize it's an inside joke you both share. Then you notice no one in chat even pays attention to what he just said, and you laugh out loud even more. Even when you're apart, he's still thinking about you. He's loyal to a fault.

To this day Doppio still tweets his nonsensical ramblings. But sometimes you reply to them like you understand exactly what he's trying to say! You roll with his humor so well and so quickly after he tweets sometimes, that not only are your fans totally surprised you can comprehend him, but some of your other coworkers in Nijisanji have to ask you to translate what he's saying.

Confession incoming: most of the time you don't understand entirely. But when he checks Twitter and notices the reply from you, his face lights up, and rolling with it makes him bright as a sunbeam. To be fair, you get a lot of his jokes that no one else does. You know how to quip with him and he appreciates it a lot.

Doppio's energy is always infectious, but only so intense when he wants to be. He's always uniquely himself, but he can chill out, and he appreciates when he can. The D in Doppio Dropscythe stands for Downtime!

The whole chuuni thing isn't an act—that's just how he is—but sometimes it's nice when he doesn't need to constantly proclaim his position as the Duke of Discipline. Sometimes it's nice to know he can come home to his Devoted that already knows he's the greatest cheftective out there no matter what he does.

By the way, when you're alone by yourselves, he calls you his Devoted. You think it's so dramatic for the little moments and he thinks it's a bit embarrassing, but neither of you have figured out another word for "lover" that starts with a D, so, Devoted it is.

(Meanwhile you call him Doppippi. Not so chuuni, and you don’t call him that regularly—too mushy—but you swear his face gets a little more colorful whenever you call him by that name.)

It nearly drives you insane how cute Doppio can be. Here he is, one of the tallest and fittest people you know, with piercings and eyeliner and messy hair, and pointed eyes that scream punk rock energy—but he coos at any animal he sees and sticks out his tongue a little whenever he's concentrating on a game, and he turns pink as your hand brushes against the inside of his wrist.

But at the same time, he's still such a badass that you can't resist him. He likes to mess around and tease you, and he knows how to use his appeal to his advantage. It’s no secret he has a sadistic streak, either.

It’s the best of both worlds. He’s so hardcore that it makes the gap moe even more effective when he decides to be cute, and when he's soft and silly it just serves as even harder whiplash when he acts cool.

.　 . • ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊ ° . ☆

You entered Doppio's streaming room with a glass of water and a light snack, and exchanged a few words while Doppio was typing out a before-stream message on his waiting screen.

So how did you get here, a finger wired under his collar to bring him closer, his hands eager as they clutch around the shirt on your back?

You kiss him, hungry and stupid, drawn to his magnetism. His teeth are pointed. They leave imprints on your tempted mouth, dragging magma over your thoughts, the blind come-ons that dusted over what makes sense. The stream should be starting soon but you can’t find it in yourself to resist.

Steam rises where Doppio hangs his tongue along yours, and so do his hands, large palms rubbing up your back and fingers on your shoulders. You’ve learned that he purrs when pleased; a soft, soothed groan pours from the corners of curved lips. Like an engine muffled by your connection.

You readjust, parting just enough to speak, though your words bounce back into his mouth. “You should prepare for the stream.”

“Done.” He holds you along your neck next, ready to go another round.

“Your Scythekicks are going to get lonely.”

“But I don’t wanna stop kissing you.”

“I don’t want to either,” you say. “I mean, you can always delay by fifteen.”

“I’ll send the message in chat, ‘kay?”

Even though the keyboard is just inches away, Doppio still brings you in with a loose arm around your shoulder and neck. Your forehead presses up to his cheek, not quite a hug but just as casually intimate. He removes his arm when he places a quick smooch to your temple.

By now all of Xsoleil’s vtuber talents are pros at sending delay messages and Doppio is no exception. The keys clack along in a steady cadence, until the tapping patters out, slowly and surely, with gaps of space between every keystroke.

It’s comedic like everything Doppio does whether he knows it or not. One final key sounds out before your boyfriend folds his hands over his mouth, and lets out a tiny “Huh?”

He stares at the screen. It’s strange to see him this motionless. You’re not too concerned, until you watch his head sink into his hands. “Er, Doppippi? You alright?”

Doppio buries his head a little bit further. It muffles him as he softly chants. “No, no, no, no, no, no, no.”

“What’s the matter?”

“No no no no no no no no noooo.”

"Did something happen?" You pat his head comfortingly, before looking back up at the screen, where he was typing into chat. "It usually isn't this difficult for you to send a message..."

Metamrph: HELLO??

sola: TSKR

🐣 AikosVoid: READER AND DOPPIO

AKENJIV: no way taht jsut happened imgcrying

eurelin mystic: SHIP CONFIRMED 💖💖💖

rin: WHAT DID I MISS IM LATE

~tiaramiisu~: should i give u kids some privacy lol

in-d4krness: READER HAS MAIDENS

"...Ah."

Doppio groans. You wish you could groan too, but your throat goes too dry to make a sound. The floor can't swallow you up fast enough.

"Um, I, uhhh," you say eloquently. "S-surprise?"

You've never seen the chat go this fast for so long. You can barely read individual messages before they speed away to make room for new ones.

messXed-up!: CLIPPERS GET YOUR CAMERAS

kierri: doppippi is such a cute pet name help

AKENJIV: this is crazy

sola: AAAAAAA

lunasmortas: CONGRATS 💜💜💜

A normal broom: are reader and pio dating???

You nearly choke on your spit despite the moisture leaving your mouth. "Dating?"

By now, Doppio flopped down in his chair so much that he's flat against the desk. Even though embarrassment crawls down your back, your hand rubs his head and shoulders as reassurance while you continue. "Maybe we should've announced that we were dating sooner."

At that Doppio launches straight up in his seat like a bamboo shoot. "Yeah, but I wanted to do a special stream for it, and take viewers' questions and give bad love advice and have a column name like Doppi's Dreamy Passionland and then announce that we're together at the end!" His eyes squeeze shut as he spits out his thoughts, pink washing over his cheeks the more he talks. "But-but-but what's the point of the Scythekicks knowing I have rizz if they can tell I'm not a whiz?"

You know the blood is rushing to your head too, but even now, your shoulders raise as you giggle. "You know our fans would be supportive whether you had a stream or not."

"But the contenttttt," he whines. He blinks to life with a pout and puppyish eyes, a sign that he's being dramatic for the sake of being dramatic. There's no hiding the fact that you're both mortified, but at least you know just as well as he does that he'll bounce back.

"Content later, whatever this is, now." You sheepishly look back at the screen. "Um, thanks for coming, everyone. How about, uh, Doppio and I take a thirty minute delay and we'll get back to you if the stream is still on the agenda."

You don't wait for any answers before you finish Doppio's half-written delay message, pin it to chat, and make triple-sure that the mic is muted this time.

Doppio rests his cheek on his palm, squishing his blush. "I could've done the stream, you know."

"Okay, but do you really want to after that fiasco?"

He averts his eyes, then relinquishes. "...Touché."

"Thought so," you say. "So what do you want to do now?"

"Nothing." Doppio slumps over and places his head on your shoulder, too exhausted to wrap his arms around you even though he leans into the fabric of your shirt and the body heat underneath it. "Let's just not do nothing."

So you take the initiative instead, and hold him properly, letting him sink like a weighted blanket. "You know, that was embarrassing, but if I can say? I'm glad they know we're an item."

He rests in the crook of your neck, letting you envelop him while tired hands lay on your back. "About time they figure out I'm yours." Your scent fills his nose and warms his blush, and even though he thought he was at his weakest on stream, he still finds his reservations breaking down as you let him be vulnerable, just for this moment. "But can't you be mine? Just for now."

You hug him tighter. "Always."

.　 . • ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊ ° . ☆

✧. ┊ ⁭masterpost ✧. ┊ ⁭kofi

#doppio dropscythe #doppio dropscythe x reader #doppio dropscythe headcanons #xsoleil x reader #xsoleil #nijisanji en #nijisanji x reader #doppio dropscythe fluff #xsoleil headcanons #xsoleil imagines #xsoleil fluff #4402 writes #4402 answers #shoutout to my friend for coming in clutch with an idea on how to end this. girl u don't realize the same sentence has been kicking my ass-#-for 7 months straight. quite literally.#also btw is v3r still a dorky cutie or did he change his image? haven't seen one of his solo streams in a while

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observeowl · 4 months

Text

Unwanted Marriage | Chapter 2 - Getting to know each other

Series Masterlist

Other than your family and hers, it wasn't that bad of a wedding. However, there were lots of interactions and formalities to be done which made you feel drained out once you entered her home.

You waited for 3 years to marry Marcus, and in the end, you married someone else.

You sat on the bed, reflecting on what happened today. You got married to a woman you met barely a month ago and have little to no interaction with. "What are you thinking about?" Romanoff entered the room unannounced, making you jump. "Nothing, just family."

"Don't worry about them, I have already taken care of everything." She said it so easily like it's something she does often. "You don't like my family, why did you agree to help them?" You asked. You can't imagine he was going to marry Stephanie willingly. "This was arranged by my family. Not me. But, you're an exception."

Natasha Romanoff, the most powerful woman in the city, is now at the mercy of her family.

"You don't have to care about Romanoff's or Y/L/N's. All you need to do is to be yourself."

Rumour has it that she became more brutal and cold-blooded in the business world after becoming disabled. No one dared to be close to her. After becoming disabled, those rich and famous people are reluctant to marry her anymore... But her eyes... are very attractive.

You shook yourself out of your thoughts and said that you were going to take the first bath while anxiously leaving. Natasha only smirked, taking out her phone from her pockets and told her men to keep an eye on Y/L/N's family.

You told yourself you were going to take back that video from Stephanie no matter what. When you were done, you figured you might as well fill the tub for her so she could relax in it for a while. Seeing as she could handle herself, you went to settle the sleeping situation. There was only one bed in the room. You tried searching for some sleeping equipment and eventually found a cover you could use. However, it was at the topmost section and you were barely touching it when Natasha came out. "Are you afraid of cold?" You curse her ability to remain silent as the cover falls on you. "No. I'm going to the guest room." You said as she gathered everything. "We are already married. No need to be ashamed."

"That... that was an accident!" You couldn't even bear to look into her eyes as you remembered the embarrassing moment. "Brooke will clean up the room tomorrow. Just bear with me for tonight. Don't worry, I won't do anything to you."

===

You woke up the next morning and Natasha was already gone. Your phone rang in your bag and you rushed to get it before it hung up. "Y/N, do you wish to take back your video?" Just hearing her voice made your day turn sour. "Stephanie! What do you want do you mean? I have already married to Natasha Romanoff. What do you still want me to do?"

"Don't worry. Haven't I told you that I would give it to you? I'll send the original copy since the video has no meaning to me. Whether you believe it or not. I have already deleted the rest of the copies."

You checked the message she sent and you have no idea if both you and Romanoff were drugged when she got this video. How in the world did she get Natasha to have sex with you? "What are you looking at so focused?" Her voice came out of nowhere and your phone slipped out of your hands towards her. Naturally, she went to pick it up and you got it back just in time before she saw anything, hopefully.

"Good morning Mrs Romanoff." The kind-looking middle-aged lady whom you assume is Brooke, greeted you. "Just call me Y/N is fine."

"Alright. What do you like to eat? I can cook different things for you every day." There were already eggs and toast on the table as she brought your tea. "Thank you, Brooke. Has Natasha eaten?" You asked. "Miss has not eaten yet." She replied. "Then I will bring it to her later."

"We're so happy that Miss has married a beautiful and caring person." It made your cheeks flush and you stood up from the table. "Well... I'm full, I'll bring her food upstairs now."

You wondered why you were so initiative as you brought the tray up. You could have left her to her own device. There were people to serve her, why did you offer to do it? You knocked on the door before entering. "I heard you haven't eaten so I brought your food." You said as you set it on the table near her. There was an awkward silence as no one moved or said anything. "I'll- I'll head out first."

You rushed down the stairs past Brooke as you felt your heartbeat rising. She asked if there was anything wrong but you said there was nothing before running away. Brooke thought it was weird and went up to check on Miss Romanoff. But she was already dressed and ready for a day in the office.

Clint knocked on the door and entered, ready to collect Natasha and begin the journey. "Y/N has sent her resume to a magazine publisher owned by the Stark family and has an interview later." He reported. "Stark family?" She repeated. "Do I need to inform them first?" Clint asked. "No need, there's nothing to worry about."

Natasha, Clint and you were sharing a car when you asked about her knowledge of your interview at Stark News. "Brooke told me." She said casually as she was typing on her laptop. She wastes no time and continues to work even during travelling time. "Oh... Um... thank you for sending me."

"What did you say?" She finally turned and faced you. "Thank you... for sending me?" There has to be something within the sentence as she closed her laptop with a slam and told you to get out of the car. You question if you heard that correctly, but she only repeated what she said and told you to get there by yourself.

"Natasha Romanoff, you crazy woman!" You shouted as the car drove off and you were left at the sidewalk once again.

"There is no need to go this far Nat. Are you shy?" Clint teased as he looked into the rear mirror.

"Shut up!"

===

"Hello, I'm Y/N Y/L/N." You introduced yourself as you stepped into the Chief Editor's office, Tony Stark. And the first thing he asked was, "Am I handsome?" You were stunned for a moment. You had prepared yourself for some ideological questions, but not this. "Uh... yes..."

"It is you then!" You were shocked by the swiftness of his decision. "Actually, I am satisfied with your potential and experience, so this is just to test you."

Subsequently, someone showed you to your table and you were sitting there thinking that has to be the weirdest interview you've ever been in. That interviewer just now is a real narcissist. "Hello! Did you pass the interview?" Your tablemate moved her chair closer to you and asked. She has a long brunette hair with a cute smile. "I'm Wanda Maximoff. You can call me Wanda. We'll be colleagues then. How did you answer the question of the editor?"

"Did you also answer it? So what does the question mean?"

"Because the Chief Editor is so handsome, many people keep thinking about him. So he deliberately asks this question to determine those who are serious about work." You nodded your head as she explained. "How about you?" You asked. "Even though he is good-looking, I have my own admirer so I won't be affected by him. Besides, I don't swing that way. If you get what I mean." She winked at the end of the sentence.

"Newcomers, don't be lazy! Come and have these documents copied!" Someone with blonde hair gave us a file of documents without saying anything else. "She is the editor of group 1 which are all veteran employees. Those people like to bully newcomers." Wanda explained as she pointed towards the table they were gathered at. She took the documents from you, "You haven't officially started work yet, so I will go get this done!"

After saying goodbye to her, you received a call from Natasha. "I'm outside your company." She said and ended the call. You walked out and looked around but you didn't see her car anywhere. As you were looking, a car stops in front of you and winds down their window. And sure enough, it was Natasha with her few cold words. "Get in."

"This morning you chased me out of the car, why are you now so kind to pick me up? And in a secretive way?" You didn't wait for her reply and continued. "Forget it, to celebrate my success in the interview, I will treat you to a meal."

"Treat me to a meal?"

"Yes... why? Don't tell me you want to chase me out of the car again!"

"Y/N, it's not convenient for Natasha to go out, let's just-" Natasha cut Clint off. "It's okay. Let her treat me."

And so you were at one of the most prestigious restaurants and even managed to get one of their private dining rooms. Clint was telling the orders to the waiter when you waited and Natasha was typing away at her laptop. Suddenly, another waiter entered and whispered to the waiter's ears that Mr Lancaster was here and wanted to book the room you were currently in.

"This room is always reserved for Marcus! How come somebody is using it now?" You can clearly hear a woman's voice from out the door.

Without announcing, she opened the door and it was someone you recognised. "Ah, I thought who is the person blocking my way, it turns out to be you!" Natasha started analysing the situation.

"Maggie, long time no see. I never thought that you still love to follow behind Stephanie." Enraged by your remarks, she retaliated. "So what if I'm with her, we're doing great! Unlike you? Looks like you are living rather miserably, after being dumped by Marcus. You even dated someone disabled!"

"You!" Before you said any further, Stephanie stepped forward, covered her mouth and pulled her away. "Idiot, stop it! So sorry for Maggie's manners. Didn't think we would bump into each other here. Marcus, let's go."

"No need to apologise. This lady is just speaking the truth." You can bet that that was how Natasha charmed several men and women to swoon over her with her sweet and deceiving words.

"What are you stunned about? Where is the menu?" Maggie still didn't recognise who was in her presence and shouted at the waiter. "Sorry, I will prepare your room immediately, please come with me." He misunderstood her intention and replied with the wrong words. "What? Are we not better than this disabled?"

At this point, Stephanie had enough of her words and pulled her out of the room without saying anything. "What are you doing?!" She only managed to get one sentence in before getting slapped by her friend. "Stephanie Y/L/N! What are you doing?" She held her cheek and asked. "Do you even know who that person is? Natasha Romanoff! Do you think after what you did, he will let you off easily?"

"Na- Natasha Romanoff? I'm done for..."

You apologise for the commotion when they finally exited the room. "I've said it before. In my eyes, they are nothing."

===

Back at home, you changed into your sleeping gown and was looking through your laptop, someone knocked at your door and you automatically assumed it would be Natasha. "It's me, Clint." He said as he took one step into your room. "Maybe next time-"

"Next time we won't be eating out anymore. Don't worry." You understood where he was getting. "Thank you, Y/N."

Soon after, your phone started ringing and it was Stephanie calling you.

You: Hello?

S: Y/N, let's talk about what happened today!

You: Do we still have anything to talk about?

S: Today, Maggie was too anxious and she didn't know Natasha's identity (Behind the phone, Maggie was pleading Stephanie to help her.)

You: So what if she didn't know who she was? She's allowed to treat her that way?

S: ... Y/N, can you just let this incident slip, for my sake?

You: For your sake? Who do you think you are?

S: Y/N Y/L/N!

You: You don't have to be afraid what Natasha will do to you guys, cause in her eyes, you don't exist.

You hang up the phone once you said your piece. You were gradually learning to not be a pushover and stood your own ground.

Series Masterlist

#natasha romanoff imagine #natasha romanoff #natasha x reader #natasha x you #my writing #natasha romanoff fanfiction #black widow x female reader #black widow x reader #unwanted marriage #mcu x reader #marvel #avengers

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rederiswrites · 2 months

Text

Well, today I had the entertainment of having a dental hygienist schedule me for my next cleaning to make sure that she was the one doing the cleaning, so that she could hear "the end of the story". It was definitely a uniquely entertaining tooth cleaning.

You see, I got a message from Jacob while I was in the waiting room, telling me that... Well, the situation with my mom, who lives in our basement and is causing us problems I don't really need to get into, had deteriorated even further. So when the hygienist went to take my blood pressure, I was like, "oh actually, it might be really bad right now, cuz I just got upsetting news, don't worry about it." And then it was, in fact, fairly terrible. It's always been great before, and was great in their records, so we called that one a scratch.

But naturally she was curious to know what had my blood pressure through the roof. Presumably if I'd brushed it off she'd have respected that, but I was like, hell, why not, it's some pretty wild gossip. So I told her the basic outlines, and actually it was good for me, because at some point I'd really started to give my mom a little too much credit, trying to keep the situation peaceful. The hygienist gave me a fresh perspective of like, "wait so why is that even a problem for her?" And at a couple points there seemed to be surprising parallels with her life. So when I was done, and hopefully less likely to pop a blood vessel, I said, "Well I gave you the goods, I think you'll agree, so fill me in on your story!"

Because after all I was about to have her hands in my mouth for fifteen minutes, so my turn with the talking ball was definitely over.

She's like, "Alright, but fair warning, this might be more uncomfortable for you than me." And naturally I say something to the effect of, "Oh nah I'm cool with most things", and she gets to work.

"So ten years ago," she begins, "my husband died."

Me: *indistinct noises of shock and dismay* What's that one Twitter thread--"I know, classic start to a funny story."

Anyhow, short version, her husband died, she had a two year old to take care of, and she was working as a social worker and feeling like she couldn't take another day of it. So she quit her job, sold her house, moved back in with her parents (she got space in the unfinished basement, the baby got her old bedroom) and trained to become a hygienist. It certainly hadn't been her plan to still be there ten years later, but hey, she had help with the kid, he comes home to his grandparents every day instead of her scrambling to find a situation for him until she gets off work, and she feels spoiled to have her mom cooking for her. It's not perfect, but the way she sees it, it's been much better this way for her son.

So now she's gotta wait six months to find out if we get a mediator and how we settle the situation. Which I guess means I gotta actually settle it. God I hope.

As we were saying goodbye, I said, "Wait, I didn't get the punchline. Are you happier as a hygienist?"

"Oh. Oh yeah. Absolutely."

#this is ridiculous

117 notes · View notes

bearr02 · 3 months

Text

Safe and Sound |Chapter eleven|

Pairing: Hybrid!ot7 x f!reader

Chapter warnings: this chapter was written mostly like a month or 2 ago and I haven’t gone back to read it so it might be bad 🙃

Summary: You have worked at a hybrid rehab and adoption center for years, enjoying being able to help people others only see as their animal side. You thought you might end up taking in one or two, what you didn’t expect however, was to take in 7.

Genre: fluff, angst, eventual smut, non-idol au, hybrid au, strangers to friends to lovers au

Word count: 2.5k

Member’s hybrid types: Namjoon: Bear, Yoongi: Bobcat, Hoseok: Ferret, Jin: Wolf, Jimin: Red panda, Jungkook: Bunny, Taehyung: Marble fox

A/n: sorry it took me so long, um.. I’ve been kinda off writing but I’m trying to go back and force myself to write and get stuff done (it’s kinda working) so hopefully I’ll update quicker next time

Last - Next - Masterlist

Jungkook eyes the intimidating building in front of him, hand squeezing your own tightly. “You’ll be okay.” You give his hand a small shake. He only hums in response, pushing himself close to you. “I promise.” You all start to walk in the direction of the store and you offer Hoseok your hand. He takes it gently, smiling at you before looking ahead at the building.

Jungkook moves behind you slight as you approach the building, the sight of people walking in and out intimidating him more than he’d care to admit. “It’s okay.” You mumble, squeezing his hand reassuringly. Jungkook slowly nods, pressing himself close to you. “You guys ready?” You ask, squeezing their hands as you look at them.

They nod, Jungkook’s more hesitant than Hoseoks. “You’ll be okay, I promise.” You say, guiding them inside the building.

As soon as you enter, Jungkook’s ears move to shield his face with a small whimper. You frown, pulling him close. “It’s okay, I promise nothing will happen while we're here. I won’t let anything happen.” You say with a reassuring smile. Jungkook hesitantly nods, but doesn’t move his ears from his face.

“Hey Hobi, can I have my hand back? I don’t think Kook’s gonna give me this one and I wanted to grab a cart. Unless you wanna push it.” You ask, looking over to Hoseok. “Sure.” He says, letting go of your hand, moving close to you after doing so. You smile at him and grab a cart, grabbing his hand again before putting it on the cart handle, covering it with your own. “You guys ready?” You ask, glancing at both of them.

They both nod, Hoseok’s more relaxed than Jungkook’s, but still slightly stiff. You nod, pushing the cart further into the store, looking at all the aisles. “So, we’re gonna have to go to two different sections, correct? Since you’re a prey hybrid” You look at Jungkook, “and you’re a predator?” You ask. Hoseok nods, “Probably. Unless they do it differently here and consider ferrets prey hybrids, too.” He says with a shrug. You nod, heading toward the direction of the prey hybrid section.

“Bun?” You call softly, giving his hand a gentle squeeze. He hums but doesn’t move. “We’re in the bunny hybrid section.” You say, trying to peek around his ears. Jungkook peaks at you before looking around the aisle, his ears slowly moving from his face. He reaches out to take a hoodie sleeve between his fingers, his eyes widening slightly at the soft material. You smile, placing your now unoccupied hand on the handle of the cart.

“Can I get this?” He asks tentatively, looking at you. You nod with a smile. He smiles back, shuffling through the sizes before pouting. “They don’t have my size.” He mumbles, his body sagging slightly. You walk over to him, “Is there a size bigger or anything? If we have to, we can shrink it in the wash.” You say, shuffling through the sizes.

“I’m good with a size bigger.” Jungkook mumbles, grabbing one of the hoodies off of the rack, putting it in the cart gently. You nod, moving back to stand by Hoseok. Jungkook walks further down the aisle, looking at all the clothing.

He picked out a few things before walking back up to you and slotting his fingers with yours. “You sure that’s all you wanna get?” You look at the cart which only holds a few clothing articles. “I can get more?” Jungkook asks, shocked as he turns to you. You nod, squeezing his hand reassuringly. “Of course. I don’t mind.” You say with a smile.

Jungkook searches your face for any sigh nod a lie before nodding, moving around the aisle again. “He’s not used to this. Neither of us are. We were lucky enough to get to pick a shirt.” Hoseok mumbles, watching Jungkook with a fond smile. “I think he’s happy to be choosing his own clothing for once.” Hoseok says, turning to face you, his smile still on his face.

You smile at him, turning back to watch Jungkook as he picks out his clothes with a wide smile on his face. “I’m sorry you guys had such a shit life.” You mumble with a slight frown. “Yeah but we have you now. It won’t be a shit life anymore.” Hoseok says with a grin, gently nudging your side. You smile.

Jungkook walks back with an arm full of clothing. “Sorry..I went a little wild.” He mumbles sheepishly. “I can put it back.” He says, chewing on his bottom lip nervously. You shake your head, gesturing for him to put it in the cart.

He hesitantly puts it in the cart, pushing it to the side slightly. “Okay, what else are you gonna need? I know toiletries are a must, but anything in specific?” You ask, looking at Jungkook. “Can I get a few blankets to nest with? It’s a bunny hybrid thing.” He mumbles nervously. You nod, “For sure. We’ll get some blankets after we get your toiletries. I’d assume there’s a nesting aisle?” You ask, pushing the cart in the direction of toiletries.

Jungkook nods, “I’m guessing yeah.” You nod, stopping at the end of the toiletries aisle. Jungkook looks at you confusedly. “Are you not gonna come down?” He asks nervously. “We can if you want us to.” You say, gently taking his hand and giving it a reassuring squeeze. “Can you?” He asks softly. You nod, pushing the cart down the aisle. Jungkook looks around curiously at all the products, seemingly in awe at the amount.

“Are all these for bunny hybrids?” He asks, turning to you. “I’m guessing.” You say, looking around as well. Jungkook smiles widely, walking over to a shelf, letting go of your hand to pick up something. You smile, leaning against the cart as you watch him, Hoseok moving to stand beside you, watching the bunny hybrid too.

“Are you gonna be able to afford this?” He asks worriedly, looking over at you. You nod, “Don’t worry.” You say, gently taking his hand and squeezing it reassuringly. He nods, watching Jungkook as he moves around. “I think he’s happy that he gets to choose his own stuff. He’s never had this luxury. Neither of us.” Hoseok mumbles, glancing at you before looking back at Jungkook.

You look at Hoseok with a small frown. “I’m sorry.” You mumble, squeezing his hand softly. He shrugs, “It’s not your fault.” He says, his eyes trained on Jungkook as he comes back, putting a few items in the cart. “You ready?” You ask, looking at Jungkook who nods. You nod, “Is there anything else you’ll need?” You ask.

Jungkook hesitantly shrugs, “I mean..I dunno if I need them but.” He mumbles, looking down at his feet. “Well let’s go get them.” You say, pushing the cart down the aisle. “What is it you want?” You ask, glancing to your side at Jungkook. “Blankets..for nesting.” He mumbles nervously. “Oh, right! I forgot you mentioned that earlier, I’m sorry.” You say, pursing your lips.

“‘S fine.” Jungkook mumble, plastering himself to your side as you all walk. “I wonder if they have an aisle for that.” You wonder aloud, looking at the aisle signs and what they hold. “Ah-ha!” You say, moving down an aisle. “Go nuts, Bun.” You say, gently ruffling his hair as you set the cart off to the side. Jungkook glances at you before moving to grab some blankets.

Hoseok smiles as he watches Jungkook pick out blankets with a wide smile. You lean against the cart, watching Jungkook fondly. Jungkook walks back with a few blankets in his arms, setting them in the cart with a wide smile. “Thank you, Y/n.” He says, hugging you tightly. You smile, “No problem, Bun.” You say softly.

He pulls away after another moment, looking at everything in the cart with a wide smile. “Hobi!” You say, turning to him, “You ready to get your things?” You ask. He nods, smiling at you. “Let’s go then.” You say, starting to head toward the predator hybrid section.

Hoseok is practically buzzing with excitement by the time you reach the section. “I can get whatever?” He asks, looking at you. You nod with a smile, “Of course.” Hoseok hesitantly starts to explore the aisle after your words, looking at all the clothing articles curiously. “Thank you.” Jungkook says from beside you. “For what, Bun?” You ask, turning to him. “Everything.” He mumbles, wrapping his good arm around your waist, laying his head on your shoulder.

You smile, wrapping your arms around him, laying your head on his as you watch Hoseok.

Hoseok returns to the cart with a few pieces of clothing in his arms, setting them in the cart. “Is that all you wanna get?” You ask, pulling away from Jungkook despite his protests. Hoseok nods, looking at you with a smile. You nod, moving down the next aisle.

Hoseok looks around the aisle as you walk down it. He reaches out to grab something, looking at you for approval as he moves to put it in the cart. You nod with a soft smile, “Get what you wanna get. I want you both to be comfortable.” You say softly. Hoseok slowly nods, hesitant, as he stares at you, slowly bringing the item closer to the cart.

When you don’t make a move to stop him, he puts it down into the cart. “Thank you.” He mumbles, hugging you. You smile, removing your hands from Jungkook to instead hug Hoseok. Jungkook huffs, trying to worm his way between you and Hoseok making the two of you laugh.

“Do you need anything else? Either of you?” You squeeze the two hybrids softly before pulling away to look at them. They both shake their heads, looking at the cart before back at you. “Are you sure? You don’t need anything for your animal form?” You check, looking between the two of them.

Hoseok hesitates before speaking, “Can I get a few toys?” He mumbles, pursing his lips as he stares at you. You nod with a smile, “Of course.” Hoseok’s eyes widen, “Really?” He mumbles as if he expected you to say no. You nod, heading in the direction of the toy aisle.

Hoseok and Jungkook follow close behind, looking around the store as they walk. When you all reach the aisle, Hoseok hesitantly starts to wander down it, looking at all the toys. “Is there anything else you wanna get?” You turn to Jungkook.

Jungkook shrugs, “I’m good with what’s in there right now.” He says softly, leaning into your side. “You sure?” You wrap your arm around his waist, squeezing him to you softly.

He nods, laying his head on your shoulder, “I’m sure.” He mumbles. You nod, watching Hoseok as he picks out a few toys before coming back to the cart. “You guys ready?” You ask softly, squeezing Jungkook gently before moving away from him. They both nod, Jungkook taking a hold of your hand. You make your way toward the front to check out.

Jungkook moves to hide behind your body when you reach the checkout, looking around nervously. “It’s okay.” You say softly, squeezing his hand gently before letting go to set everything on the conveyor.

Jungkook presses himself as close as he can to you. You take Jungkook’s hand back in your own, shuffling further down to pay.

Jungkook lays his head on your back, clinging to you as you pay. You gently squeeze his hand in reassurance, waiting for the cashier to finish bagging your items.

Even when she finishes and you start to put the bags into the cart, Jungkook doesn’t move, continuing to cling to your back. You gently squeeze his hand before starting to push the cart toward the exit.

Hoseok follows close behind, one hand holding onto the cart as the three of you walk. You do have some struggle with Jungkook clinging to you, but you make it work, hobbling over to the exit.

When you get outside, Jungkook pulls away slightly but not completely, looking around as the three of you walk toward your car.

When you reach your car, Jungkook finally pulls away, hesitant, but he pulls away. “Do you need help?” He gestures to the bags in the cart but you wave him off. “You two can get into the car, I'll load everything into the trunk.” You squeeze Jungkook’s hand lightly before starting to load all of the bags into your car.

Hoseok and Jungkook both get into the car after quadruple checking if you were sure you didn’t need help. They were both hesitant to get into the car and not help you, but they did in the end.

It didn’t take long for you to get everything into the car, but you wish it did. You feel like they didn’t get much even if they promise you they have everything they need.

You get into the car, buckling up before turning to them, “Are you both buckled up?” You receive nods from them and you nod back, starting the car.

—

As soon as you get home Hoseok and Jungkook both change into one of their new shirts and pants while you love on the cat. “I still don’t know what to call you, baby.” You gently scratch between the cats ears as you speak.

The cat's eyes close, a pur rumbling through his body.

“What do you think?” Jungkook calls out, modeling one of his outfits for you.

You smile, “It looks good. You have good style.” He blushes slightly and smiles shyly at your words, “Thanks Y/nie.” He walks over to you just as I Hoseok walks out of the hall wearing a new outfit of his own.

Hoseok poses for you, “What do you think?” He does a small twirl and Jungkook gasps softly, “I didn’t twirl! That’s not fair! You one-upped me!” He pouts, sulking.

Hoseok laughs, “I didn’t ’one-up’ you! I just thought of doing it and you didn’t.” You laugh, “Alright, alright, you both look equally as good.” You kiss Jungkook’s forehead.

His cheeks tint an even deeper shade of red at the action. “Someone’s blushing.” Hoseok teases, walking over to the two of you, plopping down beside you and laying his head in your lap. “Shut up!” Jungkook pushes his head with a pout.

Hoseok laughs, batting his hand away.

You smile, pulling Jungkook into your side and running your fingers through Hoseok’s hair. Jungkook nuzzles his head into your neck, wrapping his arm around your waist.

You lay your head on his with a content sigh, closing your eyes.

After a moment you feel something soft rub against your arm, and when you look, the cat is rubbing on your arm, looking at you expectantly. You smile, gently scratching his head. He crawls into Jungkook’s lap and curls up.

Jungkook smiles, gently petting him. “He’s cute.” He whispers, moving his head to your shoulder so he can look at the cat. “He is.” You confirm in a whisper, nodding your head.

As your eyes fall closed again, you can’t help but think of how lucky you are to have found them again.

Last - Next - Masterlist

A/n: so yeah, um, sorry if it’s sucked, I’m trying to get back into my writing element.. idk if it’s doing well..

Series taglist (open):

@blancflms @dreamerwasfound @pettyandprettyy @watermelon2319 @yoongistangerine @danielle143 @canarystwin @catlove83 @joonie-tunes @staygirl1986 @singukieee @juju-227592 @bangtan4everr @revnamjinn @anjoellamorte @jewishmommy @talyaaas-blog @btskzfav @sugathy @btsizlyfe @00ihatesnaku @sophiaj650 @savagemickey03 @prettydancingdamzel @levislifeline @strawblueberrys @readerfia @deepestfacedevil @tired7o7 @svnbangtansworld @m00njinnie @nancynotperfectbutperfect

If your user is highlighted in bold I was unable to tag you

Permanent taglist (open):

@viankiss @lizzymizzy-blogg @teddymoon06 @rln-byg @skyys-universe @misstressmina @ldysmfrst

#bts #namjoon #yoongi #hoseok #jin #jimin #jungkook #taehyung #bts x reader #bts ot7

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aethon-recs · 8 months

Note

Hullo!!

Thank you for all the great tomarry fic recs you have given to us!! Your recs are always the best and I love them all..🩷🩷

Do you have any Tomarry fics where Harry somehow time travels to the past where Tom is still in his Hogwarts years ?? And Harry becomes the transfer/new student and gets sorted into Slytherin??

I hope I'm not being too specific.. honestly, just any fic where Harry and Tom both go to Hogwarts!!

Thank you🩷🩷

- rioo xxx

Hi there! Thank you for your kind words 🤍

Here's a selection of fics featuring Harry and Tom attending Hogwarts together in the 1940s.

There's 23 fics in the list below, covering 1.7 million words, so hopefully there's some fics in here you haven't come across before! Happy reading!

Hogwarts 1940s-era Tomarrymort Recs

A Future Without a Face by @dividawrites (E, 115k, complete)

Tom Riddle is a gifted teen with a personality disorder. He’s going to rule the world one day. Harry Potter is an extremely angry transfer student, or at least that’s what Tom believes.

And the Living Will Envy the Dead by @k-s-morgan (M, 81k, WIP)

When Harry looks at Tom, he feels overwhelmed. There is a spark that makes him hopeful, the fear that nothing he does will save Tom from himself, and the horror at what his lies might lead to. When Tom looks at Harry, he feels nothing. Until he does, and then Harry’s world starts drowning in blood.

At the end of every road by @sass-y-squatch (M, 90k, complete)

In which Harry is determined to prevent Voldemort's rise, even if he has to stalk, bribe, threaten, and marry Tom Riddle to do it.

But For You, I Did by @duplicitywrites (M, 21k, complete)

When 11-year-old Tom Riddle finally arrives at Platform 9 and ¾, he meets fifth-year Prefect Harry Evans, a Muggleborn Slytherin at the top of his year. Harry is everything that Tom wants to be—Harry knows exactly what it’s like to be special, intelligent, and have no one understand you.

Custodarium by Tina48 (E, 73k, complete)

The war is over, and the Wizarding Britain has been slowly rising from the ashes. Harry just wishes none of it ever happened – what will he do when he’s given a chance to change the past? Was Dumbledore right about “the power he knows not” after all?

Devil's Hour by @exarite (E, 3k, complete)

Harry traveled back to Riddle's time with the intention to kill him, but it's been months and he's done nothing. Instead, night after night, Tom visits him in his bed. Harry lets him.

Embryo by @cannibalinc (NR, 28k, WIP)

While others only gossip about Grindelwald and dutifully prepare for their NEWTs, Tom is building an empire. He has painstakingly clawed his way to the top of his generation’s elite, and now he wants more—more power, more delights, more magic than has ever been explored before. That is Tom’s destiny, a King among men. No—a god. He need only rise to that which is his for the taking… if only one strange boy weren’t so determined to get in his way.

Enoument by @accipitae (M, 22k, complete)

Call if fate, call it destiny, call it getting hit by a car at five years old and flung into the past to land naked and bruised on the steps of Wool's Orphanage in 1931. Whatever it is, Harry grows up not in a cupboard under the stairs but in a small room shared with another strange boy.

Fate Granted by Flipdarkchill (M, 60k, WIP)

When a young Tom Riddle demands a friend in the middle of the night, he did not truly expect anything to happen. At least, not right away...

Game On, Your Move by @perhaps-sunlight (T, 75k, complete)

Be on guard, my Lord, writes Abraxas Malfoy, the new transfer student intends to kill you. Except Abraxas has terrible penmanship, and 'kill' and 'kiss' look awfully similar in shoddy cursive. Naturally, things escalate. A lot.

good night, darling by @purplemineralwater (E, 141k, WIP)

Harry's breath faltered. It was all so confusing... Harry had died. He had died and spoken to Death and suddenly he was standing in Hogwarts, in 1942, and the Sorting Hat had just pronounced him Slytherin.

Holly & Yew by @lovely-lotus (M, 236k, WIP)

After a bout of accidental magic when Harry is six, Vernon goes too far. When Harry wakes up, he is gravely wounded and more than fifty years in the past in another world. After some shuffling, Harry ends up at Wool's. There, he meets Tom Riddle, his mysterious roommate, eventual best friend, and the love of his life.

Infinite by @duplicitywrites (E, 8k, complete)

Harry and his twin brother Tom have the same mark. The same soulmate. Whoever their soulmate is, wherever they may be, they will go to Tom. Tom, however, has other plans.

nothing left to lose by @cindle-writes (E, 11k, complete)

Harry got to have Tom’s cock inside him anytime he wanted, but all he really wanted was Tom’s soul back inside of him.

Of Monsters, Of Men by @ca-xan-dra (M, 144k, WIP)

Harry’s first memory at Wool’s Orphanage is of Tom Riddle. He thinks Tom Riddle makes many exceptions for him. (He’s right.)

Promises, Promises by @mosiva (E, 72k, complete)

Harry, stuck in the past and trying to navigate Slytherin House with Tom Riddle at its head, is hit with a memory-loss spell. An unhappy accident, as the ever-friendly Tom Riddle is on hand to tell him.

Reckless Cartography by @meles-merrivale (M, 9k, WIP)

Just because someone is the love of your life doesn’t mean they’re good for you. And just because someone’s bad for you doesn’t mean you get to walk away. Featuring Harry and Tom attending Hogwarts together and slowly ruining each other’s lives.

Stab Right Through by @the-wig-is-a-metaphor (M, 82k, WIP)

Getting lost in old memories is a dangerous thing for anyone, but in Harry's case the whole situation is slightly more literal than usual, and—as it always tends to be—much, much worse.

Subjective by IceLynx (G, 1.5k, complete)

While Harry thinks Tom is extremely handsome, nobody else does. Most think Tom is rather average. Harry refuses to admit it and is forced to defend his opinion.

tautological by @cindle-writes (E, 7k, complete)

It had taken Tom quite a bit of trial and error to figure out how, but he had finally worked out how to exploit their shared horcrux connection and send Harry false visions and dreams. For a few weeks now, Harry had been waking up every morning to a rush of pleasure, soaked pajama bottoms, and Tom’s name a broken moan on his lips.

Terrible, But Great by @isalisewrites (M, 143k, WIP)

When Death gives Harry a third option, one that can save everyone he ever cared about, he takes it unflinchingly. Even when that means doing the impossible: falling in love with the enemy, Tom Riddle.

Vespertine by @itsevanffs (E, 24k, WIP)

Harry only blooms at night; Tom can see this much.

What Souls Are Made Of by Emeralds_and_Lilies (E, 278k, complete)

A mysterious object in Bellatrix's vault sends Harry, Ron and Hermione spinning into the past and to a Hogwarts like none they know. Posing as students, Harry catches the eye of the Head Boy, Tom Riddle, who is nothing like the Voldemort of the future. He's charming and sly and manipulative; both brilliant and deadly.

#tomarrymort #tomarry #harrymort #aethon recs #tomarry recs #tomarrymort recs #harrymort recs #hp fic recs #ao3 recs #fanfic recs #time travel #time travel fix-it #Slytherin Harry Potter #1940s recs #1940s tomarry recs #Harry Potter & Tom Riddle Attend Hogwarts Together

295 notes · View notes

fortheloveofwonderland · 7 months

Text

No Distance Left to Run | Part 5 | S.R

Previous Part

Chapter Summary - Spencer puts his hatred for Cat aside in order to try and save you before it’s too late. But even if he manages to get you back from the clutches of her partner, can the two of you really have a future?

Pairing - Spencer Reid / BAU Fem! Reader

Category - friends to lovers | mutual pining | angst with happy ending | smut minors DNI

Warnings - spoilers for 14.08 Ashley, hostage situation, guns, swearing, talk of miscarriage (canon compliant), vomit, blood.

WC - 8.2k

Part 5 - Red Light, Green Light

Present Day

“We need to talk.”

“No we don’t.”

“Yes, we do.”

Your eyes fluttered, your brain flitting between consciousness and sleep. You tried to fight to stay awake but you were just so tired.

“We need to talk.”

“No we don’t.”

“Yes, we do.”

The dark haired woman was still playing on her phone, feet up on the counter. The bracelet was sitting on the corner of it, tauntingly sparkling at you.

She wouldn’t tell you how she’d come to be in possession of it, of course she wouldn’t. But it made you fear what had happened to Spencer.

He was the last person who had it, what had this woman done to get her hands on? Was he here? Was he being held in another room? Was he…dead?

“We need to talk.”

“No we don’t.”

“Yes, we do.”

Images kept flashing before your lids every time your eyes fluttered closed. Shimmers of gold and twinkling lights. Large, spherical golden orbs hanging from the ceiling, strings of fairy lights illuminating the otherwise drab BAU lobby.

“We need to talk.” Spencer sidled up to you, whispering so no one else would hear.

“No we don’t.” You kept your eyes focused on the elevator shaft, gripping your champagne flute tightly in your hand.

“Yes, we do.” He hissed and then you felt his hand on your back as he started leading you away.

You’d just arrived back from a case in New Hampshire where little girls were being abducted after their parents were killed with the unsub trying to rehome the girls with more “worthy” parents.

It was Spencer’s last case before he took a sabbatical to teach classes at the university and honestly you’d been quietly looking forward to him being gone.

It had been nearly three months since the night in Varnville and the tension between you was close to reaching fever pitch.

“Now is really not the time.” You spat as he continued to lead you down the corridor.

“Yeah well there has never been a good time.” He removed his hand from you as soon as you were far enough away from the others.

“Spencer, Rossi and Krystall are imminently going to come up in the elevator and either they will be engaged or Rossi will be crushed. Either way we need to be there.” You huffed, half wondering if you might crush your champagne glass with the grip you were holding it in.

“I can’t keep doing this, Y/N. It’s been months of you giving me the cold shoulder. The team knows something is up, they’ve been asking questions. I…I miss you.” He softened, his eyes full of sorrow. “I miss my best friend.”

You swallowed thickly, loosening the grip on your glass a little.

“I miss mine too.” You admitted. “But every time I look at you, I am flooded with guilt, Spencer. What we did…it should never have happened.”

“I just want us to be ok again.” He rolled his lip between his teeth.

“So do I.” You nodded.

“At least we can agree on something.” He offered you a slightly wistful smile.

“It’s going to take time though, Spencer. For us to get back to how things used to be.”

“But we can try?” He asked, hopefully.

“Yeah,” you sighed a little. “We can try.”

“She said yes!” Rossi’s voice suddenly carried down the hall followed in quick succession by cheers of congratulations.

You went to pass Spencer to hurry back to the festivities but he stopped you with a hand on your shoulder.

The look he gave you said so much. There were so many things he wanted to say to you, you could tell he was struggling to pick just one.

Eventually he sighed and simply whispered, “you’re too good for him” before turning away from you and walking away.

“I think it’s time we up the ante, don’t you?”

Your heavy eyes shot back open at the sound of her voice. She was on her feet, her phone dangling from one hand.

“Just tell me what you want.” You groaned, your throat was so dry.

“I already told you. For you to see what he’s really like.” She scowled at you like you were a misbehaved child.

“I don’t know what that means.” You tugged on your bindings.

“Do you think they’ll find you?” She cocked an eyebrow at you.

“Wh-who?” You frowned at her change of subject.

“Your team. SSA’s Emily Prentiss, Jennifer Jareau, David Rossi, Tara Lewis, Luke Alvez and Matt Simmons? And that’s not to forget technical analyst Penelope Garcia and of course Doctor Spencer Reid.”

“Bravo, you know my team's names.” You rolled your tired eyes.

“Do you think they’ll find you?” She repeated.

“While I’m alive?” You huffed. “Or after you kill me?”

Her lip twitched up at the corner in a wry smile. She pocketed her phone and moved back over towards the camera on the edge of the counter. She pressed a button and the bright red light illuminated.

“It’s time we talked about why you’re here. Cat Adams wants you to know what your lover boy is really like.”

***

“Goddamnit,” Spencer groaned when he almost lost his footing for the hundredth time.

To his right came the sound of Cat’s playful giggle.

“I figured a genius like you would have a mathematical equation or some kind of scientific theory for this.” She snickered.

“Gravity dictates that my body is naturally being drawn towards the floor.” Spencer huffed.

“It has nothing to do with your gangly and uncoordinated limbs?” She laughed again.

“I’m not gangly.” He grumbled, wobbling again on his roller skates.

“You can’t skate backwards?” She chirruped, showing off her skills, keeping her eyes on his as she expertly manoeuvred herself backwards on the skates.

“I can barely go forward.” He scoffed.

“You need to keep your head up.”

Spencer pulled a face but did as she said, lifting his head, rolling it back a little too far and he stumbled again.

Cat laughed, quickly skating to his aid and grabbing him before he could hit the floor.

“Not that far.” She linked her arm through his, keeping him upright and slowly started to move them both on the rink. “Is someone having fun? I’m having fun.”

Spencer’s hand was on top of hers which rested on his forearm. He didn’t think he meant to put it there. He glanced at her and she glanced at him. He couldn’t speak, so Cat continued.

“If your stupid chaperones weren’t here, I’d ask the DJ to put on some Savage Garden for the guy-girl skate and we could totally make out.” Her tone was teasing but it made Spencer’s chest constrict.

He stumbled a little at the mere thought as she let go of him so she could look at him.

“You, uh, you realise what I have to do, right?” He fought to keep his balance,

“Uhm lemme think. Ask me a bunch of pointed questions and hope that I trip up?” She rolled her eyes, skating backwards again like it was the easiest thing in the world.

“What happened to your baby?” He asked, arms flailing a little.

“What?” She frowned.

“The last time I saw you, you were pregnant with someone else's baby that you said was mine.” Spencer shrugged but it threw his balance off again and he stumbled before managing to correct himself,

“Why are you asking me about that? I don’t wanna talk about that.” Her tone suddenly turned defensive.

“Hormonal changes during pregnancy expand the brain's capacity for empathy. I was actually just trying to see if I could use it against you.”

“Oh really? What about, um, sex?” She suddenly skated closer to him, really close. Soon her whole body was pressed against his and her arms were wrapping around his neck. “Why don’t you use that against me?”

He instinctively held her by the waist whilst swallowing thickly. She noticed the shift in his eyes, could see exactly what he was thinking about.

She pulled herself away and shook her head angrily. And then she was raising her arm and her palm collided with the side of Spencer’s face in a slap that echoed around the roller rink.

Spencer fell to the ground on his knees, hissing at the sensation of the hard floor slamming into his old injury.

He looked up to see her standing over him, her eyes dark with rage.

“You can’t even give me five minutes? Five minutes where you aren’t thinking about her?” She spat before she was turning effortlessly and skating away,

“Cat!” Spencer tried to scabble to his feet. “Cat, wait!”

By the time he got himself up she was already off the rink, sitting by the side and working her feet out of her skates.

He managed to push himself towards the edge and used the little wall to guide himself to the opening in the rink.

“She’ll never love you.” Cat spat harshly, standing back up once she had the skates off. “Not like you love her.”

“You’re going to make sure of that right?” Spencer rolled his lip between his teeth. “That’s what this is about. “You want Y/N to be scared of me the way she is of her husband.”

Cat’s expression didn’t change, she was always so hard to read even for a seasoned profiler.

“I don’t want to talk about her.” Cat folded her arms. “If you can’t go five minutes without thinking about her while you’re here with me then this date is over. Wrap it up boys.”

Spencer clenched his jaw, glancing over his shoulder towards Luke in the booth and shook his head subtly.

“You have my undivided attention, I promise.” Spencer spoke as he looked back at her.

“I don’t believe you.” Cat shook her head.

“I don’t know how I’m supposed to prove it to you.” He shrugged, powerlessly.

“You’re pathetic, do you know that?” She surprised him with her words.

“How so?” He humoured her.

“Pining after a married woman all these years.” She clucked.

“Yeah well I think you know enough about her to know that he’s out of the way now. You’ve had eyes on her, your partner, Juliette, she’s been stalking her. When Jared was arrested you found your perfect time to strike, the perfect leverage over me.

She was at Rossi’s wedding, I remember her. She overheard me talking about Y/N and what happened to her husband and the fact that I have feelings for her. And now you want to use that against me, you want her to hate me because me and my team had Lindsey arrested. I know you’re game, Cat, you’re predictable. And I also know you won’t have her killed because it’s too easy.”

“You think any of this has been easy?” She scoffed. “Clearly I’m not as predictable as you think.”

“What does that mean?” Spencer swallowed thickly.

“You should have Garcia check her emails.” Her lips turned up into a wicked smirk.

Spencer felt his blood turn to ice in his veins and he turned back to Luke once more who was already on his phone calling Quantico.

***

“Ohemgee. Ohemgee!” Penelope screamed as your face materialised on the big screen in the round table room, tied to the chair just like you had been in the photograph.

Emily nudged her in her arm to silence the blonde as the video started to play.

“It’s time we talked about why you’re here. Cat Adams wants you to know what your lover boy is really like.” Weaver’s voice flooded the speakers.

She was barely in shot, all of her that could be seen was one shoulder and half of her back. Clearly the point was to have the focus on you.

“Ah, of course she’s behind this.” You croaked, sounding exhausted. You didn’t look to be injured aside from the dried blood still on your face and matted into your hair. “So this is about Spencer, I’m some kind of pawn in her sick revenge fantasy?”

“Oh finally, she gets it.” Weaver scoffed.

“Why me? We’re friends, that’s all.”

“That’s bullshit and we both know it.” Weaver’s shoulder tensed, they all saw it. “I’ve been watching you for a while Y/N, I know exactly what you and Spencer are to each other.”

Emily, Tara, JJ and Rossi frowned at the screen, not sure what she was getting at. Garcia chewed on her lip guiltily, remembering what Spencer had told her at Rossi’s wedding.

“I don’t know what you mean.” You sighed, but they all saw your jaw tighten.

“He must mean something to you if you’d cheat on your husband with him. Even if your husband does beat you, it’s still infidelity.” Weaver chuckled.

“She…Spencer…no, no way.” Garcia frowned now. He had not told her that.

“Shush, Garcia.” Emily scalded her.

“I don’t know what you think you know, but I would never cheat on my husband.” You told her but all the agents watching knew it was a lie.

They could read you well enough to know you were bluffing, hopefully Weaver couldn’t.

“Sweetheart, I wouldn’t lie to me if I was you.” Weaver spat and then she raised her arm into frame.

Penelope gasped as the gun came into view, pointing right at you. Emily, Tara, Rossi and JJ all stood frozen in fear.

“I hate to break this to you, but you aren’t the first person to hold me hostage. You aren’t the first person to hold a gun to me.” You tried to keep control of the situation, refusing to show her your fear.

“He’s no better than your jerk husband.” Juliette changed the subject.

“Reid, was right.” JJ muttered under her breath.

“And how would you know that?” You sighed again.

“You don’t know what he’s capable of.”

“You mean what he did in prison? I know all about that. He did what he did to survive.”

JJ wrapped her arms around her body, her legs shaking a little but unable to move to sit down. Emily’s eyebrows were furrowed deeply and she was gnawing on one of her fingernails. Penelope had silent tears rolling down her cheeks beneath her lime green glasses.

“I’m not talking about that. I’m talking about what he did after prison.” Weaver chuckled darkly.

“And what would that be?” You rolled your eyes.

“His time inside changed him, Y/N. He’s not the same man you fell in love with.”

“I never said I was in love with him.”

“Yes, you did.” Juliette laughed again, the gun shaking a little as she did so.

“I’m getting a little tired of this cryptic thing. Just tell me what you’re talking about.”

Rossi exhaled loudly through his nose while Tara clenched her hands into fists.

“Truth or dare, Y/N?” Juliette chuckled deeply, stepping back behind the camera.

They saw your eyes follow her, and they also saw the way your body straightened in the chair.

“Reid was right.” JJ repeated. “She was at the wedding, she overheard him talking to Max.”

“Excuse me?” You tried to remain calm.

“Truth or dare? Please pick truth because I am dying to hear you confess a secret you would never admit out loud.”

“How do you know about that?” You finally gave over, knowing there was no point in denying it anymore. It didn’t matter how she knew, she did know.

“I know a lot of things.” Juliette replied curtly. “I know you are in love with him, I know you cheated on your husband with him. And I also know what a monster he is.”

At the roller rink, crowded around Luke’s phone as they watched the same video, Spencer’s back stiffened and tears flooded his eyes. Matt was holding Cat roughly by the arm a few feet away and he could see her in his peripheral vision.

“Spencer Reid is not a monster.” You retorted with a scoff.

“Oh really?” Weaver spoke sarcastically. “So you think nice men strangle women?”

Spencer’s nostrils flared and he closed his eyes briefly trying to stop the tears. Luke’s grip on his phone tightened.

“Are you seriously trying to tell me that Spencer strangled someone? Ok, I’ll bite, what do you think you know?”

Spencer held his breath, so did Luke and Matt. So did Emily, Garcia, JJ, Tara and Rossi back at Quantico.

“You never saw the tapes did you?”

“What tapes?”

“The tapes from the interrogation room in which Spencer Reid held Cat by her throat against a wall and threatened to kill her while she was pregnant.” Juliette spat viciously.

“That didn’t happen.” You shook your head.

“Sweetheart, it most certainly did happen. He is worse than your husband, at least you weren’t pregnant when he had his hand around your throat. And to make matters tragically worse, Cat lost her baby as a result.”

Your eyes widened as you started at Weaver over the camera, your bottom lip quivering slightly.

Back at Quantico Garcia gasped yet again while JJ shook her head in disbelief.

“Is that true?” Spencer glanced up at Cat, being held roughly by the arm by Matt. “That’s not true.”

“It most certainly is true.” Cat subconsciously placed her other hand on her belly.

The tears forced their way out of Spencer’s eyes and as he looked back at the phone he saw tears rolling down your cheeks too.

“No, no that didn’t happen.” You shook your head. “Why are you telling me this?”

“Because,” Weaver’s voice had a hint of amusement to it. “Cat wants you to know the truth before I send you to your grave.”

And then the sound of several gunshots screamed through the tinny phone speakers and the screen suddenly went black. Spencer whimpered, staring at the dark screen for a few seconds before looking up at Cat.

“What have you done?” His tears streamed hot and angry down his face. “What the fuck have you done?”

He yanked her free of Matt’s hold and held her roughly by the biceps as he started shaking her.

“This time, I will kill you. I will fucking kill you!” He spat in her face and he shook her harder.

“You can’t win them all, Spencie.” Cat smirked menacingly at him.

He felt a set of strong hands on his shoulders and Luke was trying to pull him back from Cat while Matt worked on freeing Cat from his hold.

“Don’t, stop it!” Spencer fought against Luke. “Let me kill her!”

“Not gonna happen, Reid.” Luke growled and between him and Matt they managed to get the two of them apart.

Spencer was breathing heavily, his tears never ending. Luke held his arm as if afraid Spencer would go after her again. He started at Cat through bleary eyes for a moment or two before shaking his head. He snatched his arm out of Luke’s hold and pushed past the other man, away from Cat and towards the door.

His footsteps were heavy and loud as he stormed away before he did something stupid. When he reached the door he threw it open so violently it bounced back against the wall.

He fled into the dark night as his breathing got heavier and his vision was almost entirely compromised. His head started to spin, the world started to spin.

He stumbled down the steps of the roller rink, using the handrail to try and keep himself upright. When he reached the bottom his stomach lurched and he suddenly vomited all over the concrete.

He vaguely heard the door open but didn’t pay it any attention as he emptied his guts onto the sidewalk.

Soon there was a hand on his back, rubbing up and down his spine in soothing motions.

“It’s ok, Reid, let it out. Let it all out.” Luke cooed.

Spencer stayed doubled over until he had nothing left and he simply dry heaved. Tears were still rapidly falling from his eyes when he stood back up.

And when he looked at Luke, he swore the other man’s own eyes were misty with tears.

***

“Oh my…no…no! No she didn’t…she didn’t…” Penelope stumbled on her heels until she hit the table, tears streaming down her cheeks.

“She can’t be.” JJ croaked. “She couldn’t…”

She felt a hand on her shoulder and looked at Rossi through tear riddled eyes.

“It could be a trick.” Tara’s voice was equally as cracked as JJ’s. “It has to be a trick.”

“We need to find where they are.” Emily spoke, voice devoid of emotion as she continued to stare at the blank screen. “We need a location.”

“The emails are untraceable.” Penelope whined.

“There had to be something in the video, some kind of clue.” Rossi agreed, reaching over to Garcia’s laptop.

“I can’t watch it again.” Garcia sobbed.

“Go then. Get a cup of tea and calm down.” Emily finally turned to face them. “I know what we just witnessed was beyond horrible. But if Juliette Weaver really did just kill our friend, then she has to pay for what she's done. So regroup, refocus. Y/N needs us.”

Garcia sniffed and nodded at her boss, turning on her heels and wobbling to the door. JJ followed her whilst Emily, Rossi and Tara stayed put.

Emily gave them both a look, one that asked if they were up for this and they both nodded stiffly.

“Ok,” Emily swallowed. “Play it again, Dave.”

***

Spencer couldn’t speak, couldn’t even blink his eyes on the drive back to Quantico. Matt went with swat who were taking Cat back to prison while Luke drove him and Spencer back to the bureau.

“Reid, you gotta think.” Luke tried to engage him as he drove, glancing at the younger man out of the corner of his eye. “This is a game to Cat, a meticulously crafted game. Nothing is left to chance, wherever Juliette took Y/N means something. You gotta think.”

Spencer exhaled shakily, keeping his eyes trained out of the window of the SUV.

“What’s the point? She’s dead. It’s over.” His voice sounded haggard, fractured.

“We don’t know that, man. The video cut out, we don’t know she’s dead.” Luke tried to convince him but he wasn’t sure he believed it himself. “And if she isn’t dead, we’ve gotta find her before Weaver kills her for real.”

Spencer closed his tired eyes, leaning his forehead against the cool window. He tried his hardest to focus on the small details of those images which haunted him, which may haunt him for the rest of his life.

It was a relatively plain room. The floor was out of shot and he could only see one wall which had been behind you. It was an off white colour, nothing of interest. Nothing stood out in that damn room.

“They could be anywhere, Luke.” Spencer opened his eyes again.

“Try harder.” Luke was stern. “There was something, something you’re missing. This place means something to the two of you, it has to.”

Spencer scrunched his brow in thought as he tried to recall places that might mean something to the two of you. You had fifteen years of history, how could he filter through all of that right now?

“I really don’t know, Luke.” Spencer groaned.

“Yes, you do. Somewhere in your brain you know exactly where she is. Your mind is clouded right now because it's trying to process too much. It's the same reason it took you longer than it normally would to recognise Weaver. You know where they are, think. Off of the top of your head, where is a place that means something to you and Y/N?”

Spencer huffed loudly, closing his eyes again. This time however he didn’t see the images from your final moments behind his lids.

The sun was shining and he was standing awkwardly on the sidewalk, twiddling his thumbs, feeling like the world's biggest idiot for getting this so wrong.

“Sorry, sorry I’m late, I know.” Penelope Garcia tottered towards the two of you, pushing her bangs back off her face.

“It’s ok, it doesn’t start for another ten minutes.” You smiled as you embraced her.

Spencer looked dumbly between you and Garcia, mouth slightly agape and eyebrows so high they almost hit his hairline.

“Happy birthday, boy wonder.” Garcia grinned at him.

“Uh…” He swallowed thickly. “Thanks?”

“Shall we?” You motioned towards the front door of the movie theatre and Garcia nodded, taking the lead.

You hung back a little, looking at the confusion that was still spreading across the young genius's face.

“You don’t mind, do you? Penelope loves Harry Potter almost as much as I do.”

“Of course I don’t mind. Why would I mind?” He shook it off but was quickly pushing past you inside.

As he entered the Film Factory, the hole in the wall movie theatre he took in the scent of popcorn that wafted up his nose and the sounds of you and Penelope chatting among yourself flooded his ears.

Maybe he could have been a little more specific about his idea of tonight, because clearly you’d gotten the wrong end of the stick and invited Penelope along on what was supposed to be a date.

He tried to ignore the way his stomach tightened and his chest constricted at his utter stupidity.

As he passed towards the booth, the small room with the little window peeping out between large, plush red curtains, his eyes scanned over the sign perched above the booth…

“Give me your phone.” Spencer’s eyes shot open and he turned to Luke in a panic.

“Uh, ok?” Luke frowned, fishing in his pocket with one hand whilst keeping the other on the wheel.

He soon handed the device to Spencer and the younger man was quickly trying to navigate his way through the smartphone. After a few failed attempts he found the video again.

He paused it as soon as it started and zoomed in on the still. On the wall behind you, mostly out of frame, he was just able to make out a sign. In cobalt blue he could see the letters FI on one line and FAC on the line below. And underneath that he could see part of a drawing of a film reel.

“Turn the car around.” Spencer hurriedly told Luke.

“What?”

“Turn the car around, I know where they are.”

Luke did as he was told and was quickly making an U-turn whilst switching his lights and siren on.

“It’s a place called the Film Factory, it’s an old movie theatre that shut down a few years back. I took Y/N there on what was supposed to be our first date but she misunderstood and invited Garcia. We’ve been there countless times since, it’s like a…oh fuck.” Spencer trailed off with a gasp.

“What?” Luke asked as he weaved in and out of traffic.

“The wedding wasn’t the only place I recognised Weaver from…”

As he passed towards the booth, the small room with the little window peeping out between large, plush red curtains, his eyes scanned over the sign perched above the booth with the theatre's name and logo before looking at the young girl in the booth.

She couldn’t have been older than sixteen, possibly even younger. She had dark hair and an incredibly bored expression on her features.

“I just need to grab one more ticket to The Deathly Hallows, please.” Spencer spoke politely,

“Seven bucks.” The young girl smacked a piece of gum in her mouth.

Spencer handed over a ten and she handed him his change and a third ticket. He felt her eyes on him all the way to the concession stand.

“She worked there. For years actually. She was there nearly every time I’ve been there. She’s seen Y/N and I there on multiple occasions. I don’t know how I didn’t see it sooner.” Spencer shook his head.

“You were in tunnel vision. Your brain was clouded because this was personal.” Luke stepped on the gas, dialling Emily’s number via his car display.

“My inability to see what was right in front of me might have just gotten her killed.” Spencer spat, balling his hands into fists.

The phone started to ring. Before Luke could reply Emily had answered.

“Alvez, how did it go?”

“That’s not important. We know where Weaver is, we’re heading there now. Reid will send you an address.”

“Wait for back up when you get there.” Emily instructed.

Spencer scoffed and rolled his eyes.

“With all due respect, Emily,” he spoke harshly. “That’s never going to happen.”

***

“Because, Cat wants you to know the truth before I send you to your grave.”

She curled her finger around the trigger and didn’t hesitate in pulling it. Once. Twice. Three times. Four.

You closed your eyes and screamed out into the small room, knowing it would do no good, no one would hear you. It took you several seconds to realise you didn’t feel any pain.

Your heart beat frantically against your chest and you slowly opened your eyes to see the woman laughing at you as she put the gun down on the desk.

Your eyes fell down to your torso. No blood, no pain. Blanks. She’d fired blanks.

Your breathing was erratic, your close brush with death forcing a few tears from your eyes. The woman laughed hysterically at the fear on your face.

You tried to focus and noticed the red light was off on the camera now. She toyed with both the camera and her phone for a while, still laughing to herself. You could only assume what she must be doing, it was the same she’d done when she’d taken the photograph.

And if like you’d suspected she was sending it to your team, they would think you were dead.

“Why don’t you just kill me?” You whined slightly.

“Cat gave me very specific instructions. She doesn’t want you dead, she just wants you to know what kind of a man Spencer Reid really is.” The woman spoke softly, almost like she cared. “You have a type.”

“Spencer is nothing like my husband.” You growled.

“When I’m done with you, and you scurry back to Quantico, watch the tapes. You’ll see for yourself. He had Cat around the throat just like your husband did to you.”

“So you don’t plan to kill me?”

“Well that will depend.” She smirked.

“On what?” You sighed.

“Cat’s orders. If she doesn’t get what she wants out of Spencer, I may have no choice.” She shrugged.

“Cat Adams is a psychopath. Did she make you feel special? Do you think she cares about you? I hate to break it to you but we’ve seen it before. You aren’t her first partner. She used another woman just like you to have Spencer arrested. But ultimately her game with him was more important than the woman she claimed to love. Cat cheated on Lindsey, got pregnant by a prison guard just so she could pretend she’d had Spencer sexually assaulted.

Cat doesn’t care about anyone but herself. She will toss you aside as soon as she doesn’t need you anymore. You’re disposable, sweetheart. You’re not special, you’re just the only one who fell for her act.” You didn’t mince your words.

You saw the woman’s face fall, her nostrils flare at your summation. She moved closer to you and quickly dropped to the floor in front of you. She grabbed your jaw in one hand, digging in firmly with her fingertips.

“You don’t know what you’re talking about. You don’t know her!” She spat.

“I know her better than you do. She’s using you! You will end up in prison for this, whether you kill me or not. And where will she be then?” You dared rile her.

“You don’t know anything.” The woman spat, tightening her hold on your jaw.

You saw her other hand moving behind her back and soon you caught the glint of a blade catching the overhead light.

You swallowed, trying to wriggle free of her hold. She brought the tip of the blade to your chest, right beneath your collarbone.

“I thought you weren’t going to kill me?” You spoke as she squeezed your jaw.

“Yeah well,” she let go of your face and pressed the blade harder against your skin. “Plans change.”

***

“Reid, wait!” Luke ran after him towards the boarded up old movie theatre.

The second the car rolled to a stop Spencer had leapt out of the passenger seat and onto the street, throwing his Kevlar vest on as he went.

“I’m going in there and you can’t stop me.” He barely had it over his head when he was drawing his gun.

“We need to wait for back up.” Luke reminded him, working his own vest on.

Spencer stopped by the door of the old building, fastening the Velcro straps with one hand.

“Alvez, if for whatever reason, we didn’t witness Y/N’s death, if she is still alive, she might not have much time.” Spencer stared at him in frustration.

“If you go in there without back up you might end up dead, Reid.”

“You’re my back up.” Spencer got his vest done up and turned to the door. “Cover me.”

Before Luke could even blink, Spencer was heading forward, gun outstretched as he reached for the door with his free hand.

It was unlocked. He shoved it open, eyes quickly taking in the entrance way, gun following his line of sight.

Luke exhaled and drew his firearm, following in Spencer’s footsteps hurriedly. This seemed like a monumentally bad idea, but there was no way Luke was letting him go alone.

He followed hot on Spencer’s heels as they canvassed the lobby. Spencer clearly had a destination in mind and he pushed forward towards the little ticket booth window.

The place was a mess of cobwebs and ripped and torn movie posters everywhere. As he walked Luke heard cracking under foot. He looked down, the floor was littered with little beads.

Popcorn kernels.

The curtains were draped closed but there was a door to the right hand side. Spencer stopped in front of it and glanced at Luke over his shoulder. His other hand reached for the door handle.

Spencer’s heart thumped in his chest, beating more fiercely than he’d ever felt it before. His stomach lurched like he might be sick again and he took a deep breath to try and stem the nausea.

As he tried the handle, another SUV pulled up outside and Emily, JJ, Rossi and Tara all threw themselves from the vehicle.

Spencer pulled down the handle and shoved open the door.

“FBI don’t move!” He yelled into the small room.

Juliette Weaver was on her knees on the floor but quickly jumped up, spinning around the chair you occupied and holding a knife to your throat.

The relief that flooded him seeing you looking back at him, very much alive, was almost overwhelming. His knees buckled a little but he pushed past it. There would be time for him to fall apart later.

“Welcome to the party Doctor Reid, you’re just in time.” She smirked.

Spencer’s stomach lurched again at the sight of the blood spilling from an open wound of your chest. Your eyes met briefly as he stepped into the room.

“Juliette, you don’t want to do this.” He held his hands up before slowly lowering them and holstering his gun. “Put the knife down.”

“I’m not going back to prison.” She shook her head, her other hand was on your shoulder, gripping you tightly.

“Don’t do this because of Cat. She manipulated you.” Spencer tried to reason with her.

He was blocking Luke’s shot and Luke was sure he was doing it on purpose.

“You don’t know her!” Juliette screamed at him, holding you tighter.

You whimpered as the blade pressed harder against your throat. You had tears rolling down your cheeks as you stared at Spencer.

You tried to commit every little bit of him to memory, convinced this was the last time you’d ever see him. He really was so beautiful, you wished you’d gotten to tell him that.

“I know she wanted to prove a point.” He held his hands up and took another step forward. “She wanted Y/N to know that I am no better than her husband. It’s true, Y/N, what she said about me. I did try to choke Cat to death because she kidnapped my mother. Prison changed me, maybe I am no different from your husband.”

“Don’t say that.” You sobbed. “It’s not true.”

“It is true.” He nodded. “I would have killed her if JJ hadn’t been there to stop me and I wouldn’t have felt bad. I’m not a good man, Y/N. I’m not the man you think I am.”

Luke knew what he was trying to do. He was trying to make you hate him the way Cat wanted in the hopes if he achieved that Juliette would let you go.

Luke had his gun trained towards Juliette but Spencer was still blocking his shot. If he just moved a little to the side he could get a clean shot.

He heard soft footsteps behind him and he didn’t need to look to know who they belonged to. He kept his gun high, on the off chance Spencer would move.

The footsteps crept to his right, further down the corridor. They were surrounding the place, if Weaver made it out of that ticket booth she wouldn’t get much further.

“Are you listening to him? Do you see now?” Juliette shook you.

You made eye contact with him again and you understood. You understood what he was trying to do.

“I see it,” you nodded. “You’re no better than him.”

Hearing those words from your lips made his stomach lurch again. His jaw clenched and he felt tears behind his eyes.

“You’ve made your point Juliette. Let her go, please?” Spencer pleaded with her.

Spencer took another step forward, creating enough space behind him for Luke to manoeuvre into the small room.

He pointed the gun at Juliette who still had the blade against your throat.

“Juliette, there’s no way out of this. Put the knife down or I will have to shoot you. You don’t wanna die today.” Luke tried to talk her down.

Her eyes flicked over to him and then back to Spencer. She squeezed your shoulder, blade pressing dangerously against your flesh.

“I ain’t going back to prison.” She repeated and her hand holding the blade twitched.

Less than a second later Luke fired his weapon. The bullet penetrated her right shoulder, surely hurting her but not killing her. She yelled out in pain, stumbling backwards and dropping the knife from her weakened hand as she fell against the wall and slid to the floor.

Luke hurried to her side, holstering his weapon and kicking the blade away. She howled again when he knelt in front of her and pressed on her gunshot wound, trying to contain the bleeding.

“We need a medic!” He called out the door where he knew his team was waiting.

Soon the small room became crowded, Rossi was by Luke’s side, keeping an eye on Weaver while Emily and JJ holstered their weapons and allowed themselves to breathe a sigh of relief that you were ok. Tara was hurrying behind you and cutting through your bindings.

Spencer knelt in front of you, his tears now escaping as he looked at you and you looked at him and he thanked every higher power that you were alive.

Tara helped you stand up, you were still bleeding from the cut on your chest and your legs shook as you stood. Spencer got to his feet too and the two of you continued to stare at each other.

“We need to get you seen to.” Tara spoke softly, placing a hand on your lower back.

You nodded but kept your eyes on Spencer, smiling weakly at him. You allowed her to lead you from the room and Spencer watched you go.

He stood there for some time, letting the tears fall, letting him feel the relief wash over him. He wasn’t aware of what was going on around him, the people moving around, the medic coming to take care of Weaver’s gunshot wound.

The world seemed to move slowly around him. He could see what was happening but he didn’t feel connected to it. He felt as though he was watching it all unfold from above, no longer tethered to reality.

He thought he’d watched you die. He thought he’d lost you forever. He hadn’t even had a chance to process your death when he’d found you alive.

The amount of thoughts running through his brain caused him to switch off from reality while he tried to sift through them. He didn’t feel JJ’s hand on his shoulder, he didn’t notice that she’d led him outside.

He was brought back around by the temperature change as JJ led him out to the sidewalk. He blinked several times taking in the street, the SUVs, two ambulances, lots of people.

Juliette Weaver was taken to the hospital to be patched up before she would be detained. Cat Adams was on her way back to prison where she would soon meet her end at the hand of the lethal injection.

Spencer stood still on the sidewalk, his mind unable to shut off. You were supposed to be dead. His brain had already started trying to grieve you. But you weren’t dead. What did that mean now?

Rossi was at his side now, holding something out in his hand. Without thinking too much, Spencer held out his own hand and Rossi coiled the item into his palm.

When he closed his hand around it, it was cool beneath his fingers. He knew without looking exactly what it was.

“Hey kid?” Rossi spoke quietly.

“Hmm?” Spencer croaked.

“Garcia wanted you to know something…”

***

You refused to go to the hospital, that was the last place you wanted to go. The cut on your chest and your head wound weren’t bad enough to warrant it and you insisted the paramedic patch you up in the ambulance.

Your heart rate was still erratic and you wondered if it would ever return to normal. You had been so sure you were going to die today and that adrenaline still ran through your veins.

Emily was the first to come and see you, holding her cell phone out for you. When you put it to your ear your children's voice encompassed you, causing you to cry once more.

“Mommy, when will you be home?”

“We miss you mom.”

Knowing they were safe and hearing their voices calmed you a little. Liv had collected them from school when you couldn’t and taken them to her place in case your own home wasn’t safe. It was late and they should have been in bed already, Liv said she would keep them for the night and drop them off at school in the morning.

You were crying still when you thanked Emily and handed her phone back. When you looked away from Emily, Spencer was hovering nearby, looking unsure if he should come over. You offered him a small smile which gave him the green light.

Taking a breath he slowly started towards you. Emily saw him coming and patted your shoulder gently.

“I’ll give you a minute.” She whispered before turning and heading away.

Spencer ambled over, hands in his pockets and rolling his lip between his teeth. He cautiously sat down next to you on the lip of the ambulance. He looked at you, his eyes full of so many emotions.

“I’m so sorry this happened to you.” He exhaled shakily.

“It’s not your fault.” You sniffed, wiping your tears on your sleeve.

“It kinda is though. She used you as a pawn in her sick and twisted revenge against me.” Spencer shook his head.

“It’s fine, it’s over now.” You breathed. “You know I don’t really think you’re anything like him? I just said that because I thought it might save my life.”

He looked away from you, out across the street. His body deflated and he closed his eyes for a few long seconds.

“I wasn’t lying, Y/N, I have changed since prison. What I did to Cat…I don’t feel bad about it. The miscarriage, I do feel bad about. If I had caused that, the death of an unborn child, I would never have forgiven myself. But Garcia checked, she actually miscarried months later. And so I can’t bring myself to feel bad. She kidnapped my mom, she had me arrested. But it makes me no better than your husband.” He shook his head, sniffing lightly.

You placed your hand on his arm and he looked back at you, unshed tears in his eyes.

“Spencer, I don’t think you’re anything like him.” You shook your head. “You’re probably the only person in the world who has ever really loved me.”

“But things are just….so complicated.” He frowned.

“True, I probably still have a long battle ahead of me to keep Jared out of my life. I have two kids who are going to need me more than ever. But life is always going to be complicated and messy and if we try to wait for the right time…” you trailed off and squeezed his arm softly.

His eyes flit down to your hand and his heart leapt into his throat when he saw your now empty ring finger resting on his arm.

“If we try to wait for the right time, we might be waiting another fifteen years?” He finished for you, a small smile creeping to his lips.

“Exactly.” You nodded, your own lip twitching at the corner.

“But that really begs the question…”

“Ask me.”

Spencer rolled his lip between his teeth, turning his body a little so he was facing you properly. He reached out and took hold of your hand, threading his fingers in yours.

“Y/N,” he whispered. “Truth or dare?

“Truth.” You replied quickly.

“Did you mean it?”

“Yes.” You didn’t hesitate in responding. “You were my first love, Spence. I was always too scared to admit it and then I met Jared and I thought it might help me get over those feelings. But it didn’t. And I pushed you away and I’m sorry, I’m sorry for doing that.”

“Hey, it’s ok.” He squeezed your hand gently. “I understand. The truth is I don’t know how to be in this world if I’m not wishing for a future with you.”

His free hand went back inside of his pocket and he pulled out the item Rossi had handed him. The silver and gold of the bracelet shimmered in the light from the ambulance. He let go of your hand and you held it out for him to drape the metal around your wrist before he clasped it shut.

You smiled softly at each other, his hand finding yours again and for a moment or two you sat in silence. You took in the street, the old abandoned movie theatre you and Spencer had spent so much time in together.

All those memories seemed so clear now. All the old horror movies he’d taken you to see which you told him you hated but you secretly loved because when you got scared it gave you an excuse to curl in close to him.

All the foreign movie festivals you’d gone to, some of which lacked subtitles and Spencer would lean in close and whisper the translations to you.

All the shared popcorn and the accidental brushing of fingers as you both reached in at the same time.

The hours you must have spent inside of those walls together, in your own little bubble all came flooding back, all of those adventures you’d watched playing out on the screen side by side.

And it made perfect sense that you should be sitting here now, on the cusp of your latest adventure together.

You glanced back at him and as if sensing your eyes on him, he looked at you too.

“Hey Spence?” You whispered.

“Yeah?”

“Just to confirm, because you didn’t actually say it…” you trailed off and Spencer chuckled lightly.

He was quick to move his free hand to your cheek, drawing you closer and then he kissed you.

Somewhere in the back of your mind you heard fireworks going off like it was the Fourth of July. He was gentle with you but his adoration was spoken silently against your lips.

It was a new hope, a new beginning. It was two people who had been unfathomably in love with each other for well over a decade finally coming together.

When he pulled back, he didn’t go too far and he kept his hand on your cheek as though scared he might lose you again. He smiled at you softly.

“I love you too, Y/N.” He laughed.

“After all this time?” You whispered.

“Always, my love. Always.”

@andiebeaword @measure-in-pain @muffin-cup @dreatine @matthew-gray-gubler-lover @justreadingficsdontmindme @spencer-reid-wonderland @thebloomingeagle @frostandflamesfanfic @pixiehex1985 @release-your-sweets @megan-mars @hales-17 @onlyspence @werewolfbansheelove @gubsi @vivian-555 @ropickle @meowiemari @dil3mma @wolfstar-17 @kylakins88 @shqwqrma

#spencer reid #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid x fem! reader #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x y/n #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfiction

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twistedwonderlandshenanigans · 3 months

Text

Valentine's Day...Gifts They Give You?? I Think. IDK.

HAH SCHOOL CAN KICK MY BUTT BUT BY GOD AND THE DEVIL WILL I SHARE A LITTLE BIT OF LOVE!! (I'm suffering Jesus fucking CHRIST this course is gonna eat my fried up brain for breakfast lunch and dinner) This is done assuming they're pining for Yuu, save for Ortho he's Idia's little wingman. GN reader as always bbssssssssss if anything seems canon divergent, check out my HCs lmao

Heartslaybul Ace: He thought about making it super romantic, like he spent the week leading up to Valentine's day brainstorming ideas on napkins and doodling on scrap paper, trying to come up with a way to ask to hang out that would make it feel different than normal, but not so obvious that he...you know, likes you. He ends up showing up at Ramshackle before class with a box of chocolates he bought the day before and a bit of a blushing mess. "I just got these because who knows how much Sam will have by the end of today, you owe me half, ok?"

Deuce: He absolutely called his mom to ask for some advice, and asked his dorm mom (Trey), to proofread the hand written note he had meticulously written and supervise while he tries to make a heartshaped quiche. Why quiche? Well he knows you guys have...Memories about eggs, and he remembers it fondly, and he knows that quiche freezes well, so if he makes a big batch, you can eat what you want and have a readily available breakfast to just pop back in the oven whenever you want it - hopefully you'll remember him each time you do, and you'll ask for more when you finish it! He ends up at Ramshackle a little disheveled and out of breath, trying to make the quiche early enough in the day that he could make it there before breakfast so maybe you could share a meal before class. "It's still warm??" "Yeah, I ran here as fast as I could once it was cool enough to handle." "You didn't have to..." "I wanted to! You're more than worth the effort it took to be here on time." Trey: Mans has a major advantage in that he is great in the kitchen, but he can't just make your favourite dessert. He can do that any day. No, for weeks ahead of time, he plans, makes, tests, and revises a new recipe, something that is unique and meant to be for you. It's more effort than he normally puts into his work, but it's so worth it when he shows up at Ramshackle in the evening to deliver his gift and a small note, though he gets shy. He leaves it on the front door step, knocks once, and moves to hide by the side of the house, relying on Grim's nose to bring you to the door if you didn't hear him knock. Seeing the way your face go from confusion to joy and excitement as you read the note is worth every moment he spent crouching. He knows tomorrow you'll want to talk to him in person, but for now, that's more than enough for him.

Cater: Consumerism Capital lmao. He has a really sweet, genuine gift to give to you, but the time he's spent with his sisters makes him second guess whether or not something is "good enough". So, yes, he will have spent 72 hours painting a fucking masterpiece on a phone case for you, or a pair of shoes you said you wanted, or a skateboard so you guys can skateboard together, or something you mentioned you wanted offhandedly months ago, but he's not sure if it's enough, so to "make up" for his "shitty handmade gift", he buys a shit ton of Valentine's day merchandise! He shows up with the giant teddy bear, the bouquet of flowers, the chocolates, the sappy movies, a trending perfume and some sort of specialty drink he picked up at a cafe. Depending on your reaction to all that stuff, he might actually give you the gift he worked on, otherwise you'll see it by accident or something and he gets embarrassed and a little flustered because What If You Don't Like It, Isn't Everything Else Better Than That Thing I Worked On Specifically For You. Treat him gently please. That's a personal request slkdjfhlskdjf

Riddle: He's new to this. So of course he researched long and hard on how to best express his interest in you without trying to push anything on you. Cater tried to show him cute stuff on social media, but it all seemed so scripted, disingenuous, or so over the top he couldn't see himself doing it that way. Or on the other end - they were couples, well into their relationships and living together- that wasn't where he was with you, at least....not yet. He ends up watching, reading and listening to tutorials on how to put together the perfect bouquet - his beloved rose garden would have more than an aesthetic use now, and with a little magic, a beautiful gradient came easily to the bunch of roses he arranged beautifully. Before you, this holiday just seemed ridiculous. Maybe it still was, but he would indulge if it meant it brought a smile to your face.

Savannaclaw

Jack: He can't be direct for the life of him, not in terms like this. The night before Valentine's day, he's still stumped on what to do for you that won't be...inherently romantic and obvious, but show that he cares about you!! His eyes end up settling on his little cactus and he ends up finally getting an idea. Somehow after class, but before you got home, he managed to gift you your own tiny cactus. He left it sitting in a box, a small knitted coaster of sorts sitting underneath the flower pot - he put it in the box just so that the yarn wouldn't snag on the uneven wood outside of Ramshackle- and a tiny cowboy hat sitting on top of your cactus. It had been from one of his little siblings dolls that ended up in his bag from the last time he'd gone home, but either they didn't even notice it was gone, or he could get them a replacement later.

Ruggie: "Do you have plans for Valentine's day?" "Yep. Wait for it to be over." He doesn't really care for Valentine's day, but the sale that starts on the 15th? Goddamn, yeah, he's gonna capitalize on that....and he might even like you enough to share a little bit of it...maybe while watching a movie....and snuggling up under the same blanket at Ramshackle...that he may or may not have snagged from Leona's pile of Really Nice blankets....all it takes is for you to say you want some chocolate or treats too.

Leona: He really doesn't care for Valentine's day and all the shit that comes with it, but his sister in law asked him to at least try to make the best of the day. Initially, he was going to...at least try to contest it, but ultimately decided there was a simple way to do it. He ends up firing you a quick text to meet him in the greenhouse. While the way he pulls you into his little nest for napping is rather unceremonious, once you've settled he tucks a pink camellia behind your ear before abruptly telling you he's going to sleep and you're welcome to join him or you can get out of there if you want. He hopes, that just maybe, you'll be able to identify the flower he gave you and find out what it means.

Octavinelle

Floyd: Azul is making him work overtime for Valentine's day, he doesn't get up early enough to do anything Before classes, and by the end of his shift he's EXHAUSTED and MAD. He likely has the wherewithall to bring you a serving from the special menu in a takeout container before flopping down on the couch next to you, then onto you, just looking for a little bit of physical affection. The next day he does feel a little bad for not making you feel as special as he could have, so he'll wake you up with breakfast in bed. Jade: Again, he's been working overtime but he was more ready for Valentine's day than Floyd. While he can't take you anywhere on the day of, he has an easy hike and picnic planned for the weekend if you'll join him. Despite being in the wild outdoors, he's determined to make you a dish that would be worthy of serving at the lounge. He will not handle being asked to stay home very well, but ultimately will if you want that more....but it's going to be in your backyard.

Azul: He had so much on his plate leading up to Valentine's day with marketing, organizing shifts and maximizing profit. But, some of that profit was already planned to be set aside specifically for you. It was about time that you got a bit of a leg up, right? I mean working for Crowley can only pay so much, and he's the head of the dorm that represents generosity anyways. So on the day after Valentine's day, he shows up in the evening with a laptop, and envelope with cash, and a grin, ready to show you the wonders of ✨investing✨. He may have forgotten you still...want to go home. He'll backtrack a bit and offer to help you find contractors that will renovate a part of Ramshackle for you.

Scarabia

Jamil: He didn't even bother trying to plan something for himself with you. How could he? It was a holiday, as ridiculous as it was, it meant that Kalim would inevitably want to celebrate it on the dorm level, and Jamil, of course, would have to plan and organize and arrange everything in order to make it work out. However, that didn't mean he wouldn't make sure to invite you. It didn't mean that he wouldn't make the time to ensure your favourite dish was served. Or that your favourite song would come on during the dance party portion of the celebration. Or that he wouldn't check on you just as, if not more frequently than he did on Kalim to make sure you're enjoying yourself. And if you're not, if it's all too much, he accounted for that already and will show you where you can stay until you feel okay again. Of course, if you show up an hour or two early and demand (you can't ask, he'll say no) to be given a task to lighten his burden, he might just admire you a little bit more (even if he still says no).

Kalim: Valentine's Day means partayyyyy time!! There's gonna be food, and dancing, and games, and lots of people, and live music because he, Cater, and Lilia are gonna perform, won't you come see him?? He needs you there so he can perform the best he ever has!! Come on Yuu, please??? They did actually practice, because they had to change a few lyrics so that it could be a better cover for Valentine's day and he was thinking of you when they modified it, so can you pleeeeeeeease come?

Pomefiore

Epel: He isn't sure whether he wants to continue a tradition he had from home or not, where he would show up at school with handmade lollipops and give them out to people....but his class at primary school was soooo much smaller, it wouldn't make sense to do it here for everyone. Not to mention, he usually had his grandma help him make them, he's never done it on his own. He likely does it for all the first years in his little friend group because he doesn't want to be obvious to anyone person that maybe...he likes them a little more...however your lollipop is the only one that seems to have no imperfections. Funny how that worked out.

Rook: Screw your alarm clock, he knows when you wake up anyways and will be outside your window, serenading you until you wake up. Even if you end up rolling out of bed lookin like a sewer rat and peaking out the window, once he knows you're awake he'll start reading poetry to you. He kinda just lingers until you're done getting ready enough to come great him outside, where he gives you a single rose and a few sheets of paper that he's written his poems about you on. He'll kiss the back of your hand and offer to escort you to class. ** I just want to say, for as much as I gripe about Rook in other posts, I genuinely believe that if he knew or found out you had no Valentine, no plans, and nobody treated you, he would, by the end of the day, at least have left a rose and handwritten note on in front of your door apologizing for not having asked to be your Valentine earlier and going through and complimenting you, though the note is completely anonymous. Rook is a bleeding heart (hehe Snow White ref) and regardless of his feelings for you/your feelings for him, he wants to make sure Valentine's day is positive for you.

Vil: Ugh, Valentine's day. It's a tacky, meaningless holiday that corporations push for the sake of profit. He agrees to model stuff still, sure, he has to in order to try and keep up with Neige, but he hates it. He gets his nails done so that they are jet black. Part of him wants to go goth for the day, but really that would be an overreaction to something so minor. He rejects any Valentine's day gifts, and likely won't want to do anything special, so if anything, you get to see a slightly out of character Vil as he either facetimes you to make sure you've been drinking water today and rant about the industry and how it's ruined Valentine's day, or. You send him a really cheesy gif wishing him a happy Valentines day and he very reluctantly replies, but tells you to never do that again (and it segues into Above).

Ignihyde

Idia (+ wingman/little shit Ortho): Ortho didn't really intend to snoop, but his big brother just left his phone out in the open...well he threw it onto his bed and mumbled something about being a loser. According to Ortho's analysis of Idia's phone, he hadn't been on a mobile game, so what got him so worked up? He sifted through until he found the culprit- the draft of a really sweet...and yeah, kinda cringey message he had written out addressed to the prefect of Ramshackle. Eugh he didn't need to read that...but...but Yuu should. He sends the message for Idia right before his brother comes back into the room, mumbling about how he needs to delete something. His eyes go wide as saucers as he sees not only has the message been sent, but the prefect has read it and is replying in that very moment. Idia reprimands Ortho immediately, but gently until the Prefects response comes through and Ortho confirms the tone is positive. Diasomnia lord help me it's one in the morning

Sebek: Wasn't going to do anything until Lilia mentioned...."exaggerated"...just how important Valentine's Day can be to humans. His decision to try and come up with a last minute gift only amplifies if he sees someone else give Yuu a gift, and ultimately decides with a certain degree of defeat just to buy something from Sam's shop. He decides something practical is best, but gets a little distracted around the candles. Surely in Ramshackle you would appreciate something small, aromatic and it even offers a small bit of heat! He decides to go through with it, but it's only noon, surely he can customize it a bit more before the end of the day. Lilia ends up walking into Sebek's room at around 10:30, only to see him struggling to stay awake as he wipes off paint from the lid. Based on the discarded tissues around, he hasn't been satisfied with any customizations he's tried to make. Lilia gently encourages him just to write a quick note, and he'll deliver it to the prefects doorstep for him so he can get to sleep. Sebek insists it's not perfect, but is forced to accept defeat as Lilia ushers him to bed, reassuring him that the prefect will still appreciate it.

Silver: He knows that he struggles to stay awake, so he starts on his project long before Valentine's day so that he can work on it whenever he has the wherewithall to do so. Come Valentine's day, he has the gift with him during class, and ends up sitting outside of Ramshackle, passed out next to the door waiting for you to show up so he can hand you his gift, which turns out to be a dagger. No, he didn't make it, but he wanted to research the best option for someone of your size and stature, the quality, where to purchase it reliably, to make a small write up on how to care for it properly, what it can and should be used for, and activities it's not suggested to use it for, but you technically "can". It also gives him an excuse to come see you more often to teach you how to use it- often teaching someone is a great way to learn and will add another layer to his training. Lilia: He's been around for so many Valentine's Days, he probably knew the fucking saint it was named after. That being said, he loves to make the most of life, and that doesn't stop here! Get ready for a home cooked meal, you don't have to worry about dinner tonight sweetheart, Lilia's got it covered. Or he'll pay for take out. Or both, to make up for the mess in your kitchen.

Malleus: He's been aware of the holiday for years, but has never really had a reason to celebrate it. But now there's someone who isn't scared of him. Someone who, perhaps if he asked, you would allow him to spend time with you. He ends up daydreaming about the activities the two of you could do together, from making gargoyles to learning to make ice cream together, he ends up spending the entire day like that. Though he's a bit frustrated at his loss of time, he writes out a heartfelt letter to invite you to join him in those activities at a later date. He'll either wait for you outside, or if its too late in the night, simply slide the letter under your door.

---------------------------------------------------------

I was gonna do Che'nya and Neige and even Rollo but its. its way too late, I'm hungry and I have a STATS class tomorrow RIP me.

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