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lily-radiance · 4 months

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Hazbin Hotel idea

- Fallen-Angel reader(Fem) x Alastor

The reader is doubting Heaven's actions and decides to take a trip to Hell to see for herself.

- Disagrees with the idea of senseless carnage but understands life is not so simple and split in two.

- Charlie, of course, takes her in, although she does not know the reader is an angel. The reader at first doubts the redemption idea but begins to see the vision.

- Reader is not a fan of Lucifer for many reasons, but mainly because he "betrayed" Heaven, and his relationship with Lilith/Charlie is strained.

- Imagine Hell's greatest Dad, but instead of y'know the whole dad part, Lucifer and Alastor are trying to make you pick a side.

- Alastor, chaotic as usual, tries to get the reader to accept being fallen and doesn't want her to go back. She tells him about her 'predicament' before anyone else, and you better believe he wants to fight the angels for you. He tells Charlie and the others about everything because he knows you won't do it yourself. You obviously get mad. Like big mad.

- In your spiral, he sees your wings at their total capacity, and your shaken demeanor has them changing from white to black at a high rate.

- Vox and Valentino get the terrible idea to hold you for ransom against Alastor and Angel Dust, and they do not go unpunished. Vox makes several derogatory comments about your "holier than thou image," Alastor won't let him get away with it. When it comes to you, he has no problem with your lineage, and honestly, he finds it charming that an angel of all creatures would fall for him.

One of your wings gets injured, and unsurprisingly, it happens to be one of the only angelic wings left. (Say the top and bottom wings on each side are black while the middle two are white?) You used to dye your wings to hide your angelic nature, but with an injury present, it is the least of your concerns. Alastor refuses to let you fly while in recovery, and he has to deal with your pouting. When you do heal, he's still weary, always accompanying you in case you need a helping hand.

"Al, I can fly on my own! Look, my wing is healed!"

"No."

"C'mon, just one lap around the hotel!"

"No."

- Husk thinks you're pretty chill company and likes to vent when you have nothing to do. Sure, he can't say much about Alastor without fearing for his soul, but when he can, the conversations are never dull. If you make him laugh, you'll never let him forget it.

- Angel and Nifty constantly tease you about your infatuation with a particular radio demon. Don't expect any worthwhile advice, even if it means no harm. Charlie really wants to see you and Al together, but she might need to be reminded about boundaries.

- Angel Dust once tried to hit on you to see what would happen and nearly got thrown into next week.

- When he says "Good Girl" to Charlie, you can't help but blush and be a little jealous. He isn't afraid to use the phrase to fluster you on purpose, although you would prefer he not.

- If you wear makeup/do your nails, he will be fascinated. He doesn't say anything because once, he spooked you and made you jump, ruining it. The next hour was spent with him memorizing every detail of your designs in case of another mistake. If he scares you again, it's his job to redo everything. Except for mascara. Never mascara.

- Chess and poker games when the staff has downtime. He will use his shadows to help you cheat, but only if he's not playing with you. Husk knows but says nothing.

- If you're listening to music with earbuds, he will occasionally slow the signal so he can bother you. At first, you were annoyed, but realized it was his odd way of communication. Plus, he still hates technology. (You will purposely play "Video Killed The Radio Star" to get him back.)

"Would you kindly stop playing that infernal song, my dear?"

"Not until you stop interrupting my music."

- The Egg Bois love you, that's no surprise. They always ask about you when being watched by Alastor. The radio demon has come to accept the many questions by now, but the first time, he wanted to spit out his coffee. You think fondly of the memory, occasionally bringing it up to lighten the mood.

"Are you and Mom fighting?"

- When you get into disagreements, expect a few dozen bouquets of white roses in your room. He's terrible at expressing emotions other than murderous intent, and Charlie does what she can to help. You're both stubborn, but it gets too exhausting to keep up the act, and eventually, someone has to cave. (Charlie isn't afraid to wear her horns when confronting him, and if he tries to avoid apologizing, Lucifer will make a daily phone call to annoy him.)

"Hey asshole, talk to your girlfriend, it's upsetting my daughter. Also, you suck."

- Regarding the Extermination day, you try your best to fight the Angelic invasion but struggle. Alastor is stuck between keeping you and the Hotel safe. When Adam nearly beats him, you don't know he's alive, but his reappearance at the new and improved hotel is a welcome sight. He's a little rattled that he almost died, but seeing you safe is enough to keep him going. He might be a tad crazier, but you love him to pieces anyway as you run up and hug him. Typically, he despises physical contact, but coming from you, he doesn't mind, even going so far as to hug you back.

"I assure you that I'm alright, mon cher."

"Are you sure, Al, because that was a difficult fight. Wait—your voice!"

The radio demon takes a moment to realize that without his staff, his voice is clearer than before.

"Oh, you must mean the radio feedback is gone. Yes, I suppose you've never heard my regular voice. I had forgotten what it sounded like. How is it?

"It sounds lovely. I couldn't imagine a better fit."

"I should return the compliment; that is what a proper gentleman does. Your wings look lovely as ever, (Y/N)."

You look over your shoulder to see the feathers no longer entirely black, but back to their ivory shade. A few straggled feathers remain, but you don't mind, overjoyed.

In the middle of your undeniably cute interaction, the rest of the staff is watching. It isn't until Husk interrupts with "get a room" that you two get the hint.

Bonus:

Ruffle this tall disaster's hair. He might complain, but he loves it.

Are you feeling extra crazy? Boop him. Just boop the nose. He will do the same to you.

#hazbin hotel #fanfiction #hazbin alastor #hazbin spoilers #alastor x reader

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souliebird · 28 days

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[[and then I met you || ch. 18]]

Series: Daredevil || Pairing: Matt Murdock x Fem!Reader || Rating: Explicit

Summary:

A one-night stand years ago gave you a daughter and you are now able to put a name to her father – Matthew Murdock. Everything is about to change again as you navigate trying to integrate your life with that of the handsome and charming blind lawyer’s and Matt realizes he needs to not only protect his new family from Hell's Kitchen, but from the world.

chapter masterlist

Words: 3.7k

ao3 link

banner thanks to the wonderful @theradioactivespidergwen

warning: canon typical violence || vomit

“Oh, kiss me, beneath the milky twilight. Lead me out on the moonlit floor, lift your open hand - Strike up the band and make the fireflies dance, silver moon's sparkling. So, kiss me.”

You hum along with the song playing quietly in your ear as you scrub the bathtub. It is one of your cleaning nights and you are focused on getting everything back to tip-top shape. The tub currently has a bit of a purple tint to it after you tried a new brand of bubble bath for Minnie - you are lucky she isn’t now grape flavored as well - and you would very much like it gone. It is coming off easier than you expected, but it is taking a fair amount of elbow grease.

It is easy to space out and listen to music as you work. Your cleaning playlist are songs you can vibe to that you don’t really associate with anything in your life - mostly you think about the movies the song has been featured in - but you are finding, as you scrub and romantic lyrics float through your head, a certain name and face keeps appearing in your mind’s eye.

You know it isn’t wise for you to develop a crush on Matt - just because you have a daughter together does not mean he wants to kiss you. You know you need to squash the feelings down before you get yourself hurt.

But sometimes it is nice to have silly impossible daydreams while you are cleaning alone at ten at night. Having a goofy little smile while you picture yourself spinning around a garden in a dance isn’t hurting anyone. You have a good grasp on reality - you just sometimes want to pretend to be the lead in a cheesy 90’s teen romcom - is that too much to ask?

No one else needs to know Matt has replaced the lead actor. It is a secret just for you.

As you scrub bleach powder around your purple-haze tub drain, you catch movement reflecting in the shine of the spout. You can’t hear anything over your music - even though you only have one earbud in - so you sit up and turn around. Of course, it is Minnie standing in the doorway, clad in her jammies, and dragging Scooby by his big paw.

You pull the earbud out, frowning to your daughter, “Is everything alright, Mouse? Is my music too loud? Did it wake you up?”

She shakes her head, then in the most miserable voice you have ever heard from her, whines, “My tummy hurts.”

Instantly, you set down your sponge and your earbud so you can go to your daughter, “your tummy hurts?”

You move to pick her up, wanting to comfort her, but it is made clear she doesn’t want this by stepping back and holding up her toy between the two of you. It hurts, but it passes, as you know you don’t like to be touched when you feel sick, so instead, you kneel down to be in front of her and try to find the root of the problem.

“How does your tummy hurt?”

She sways side to side, face scrunching up as she self-analyzes. You can see the little wheels turning in her head, but then there is a very subtle shift in her eyes that only years of being a mother makes you notice. With lightning speed, you grab Minnie under her arms and spin around to hold her over the toilet just as her dinner begins to regurgitate.

Your heart breaks as she empties her stomach and you try to soothe her the best you can, rubbing her little back as she coughs and hacks.

“It’s okay, it’s okay, get it all out. Get all the icky out,” you tell her.

Luckily, her stomach is small and there is not a lot of expel. Once you are sure she is done, you flush the toilet then close the lid, intent on setting Minnie down so you can clean her up, but of course, now she doesn’t want to be put down. She wiggles and turns until she can bury her head into your neck, sniffling and hiccupping, and clinging to you the best she can.

You can feel bits of vomit on your neck, but since you aren’t completely covered in it, you try to ignore it in favor of your distressed daughter. You begin to rock her gently, humming one of her favorite lullabies as she processes how distressing throwing up is.

You don’t remember when the last time she got sick was, but you have a guess as to what caused this upset - you tried a new ice cream for dessert tonight. It had made your stomach a bit gurgly and you had solved that with a TUMS.

It hadn’t occurred to you to ask if Minnie needed one, too.

A lesson for the future.

Minnie doesn’t dissolve into full on tears and after about two minutes, she pulls back and croaks out, “‘cooby?”

She had dropped the toy when you had first picked her up, so you stretch to grab him for her. She quickly switches to clinging to him and you go right for a washcloth. You wipe down your neck first - you can only handle so much - then start on cleaning up your poor Mouse.

In a blessing from the gods, she only has a little bit of gunk around her mouth and nose. It doesn’t seem like anything got on her clothes.

Getting her to rinse her mouth out takes a bit of convincing.

“It will help the icky taste go away,” you promise, but she just clamps her mouth shut and shakes her head. You very much get why she wouldn’t want anything in her mouth after throwing up, but you also know she needs a good rinse. She only gives in after you demonstrate what you want of her by brushing your teeth and gargling some water. However, the condition is that you have to brush her teeth for her while she squeezes Scooby for dear life.

Once her mouth is clean and the only sign she was ever sick is her puffy red eyes, you scoop up your baby and bring her out to the living room.

“How does your tummy feel now?” you ask as you set her on the couch and begin to cocoon her in the throw blanket you keep there.

Minnie rests her head on top of Scooby’s, lip jutting out into a pout, “Icky. And Hurty.”

“Icky and hurty?” You sympathize. You know well the aftermath of throwing up and how sometimes the aftermath is worse than the event - your stomach often turns sour and you feel drained. You know certain fluids will help relieve this, so you kiss Mouse’s forehead and tell her, “Let me see if we have any things to help.”

“Blue Pedi-lyte?” she asks and you can’t help but smile over how observant and smart your little one is. She may not have thrown up in recent memory - but other digestive problems have occurred, and she clearly remembers enough that the drink helped.

“Yeah. Let me go see if we have any, okay? Do you want to put on some Mickey?”

“Goofy,” is her quick, but mumbled reply.

You turn on the television and bring up some Goofy related shorts, then head to the kitchen, hoping you have some old Pedialyte.

But you don’t.

You have leftover drinks Karen brought you and the only thing that is comparable to what you promised Minnie is yellow Gatorade. However, you have nothing to turn it blue. You have the feeling that trying to give it to your little one is not going to go well, but you try, nonetheless. You fill a sippy cup halfway with yellow liquid and mentally cross yourself as you bring it to Mouse on the couch.

She takes one look at it before pouting at you, “That’s yellow.”

“I know, sweetie. But we don’t have any blue Pedialyte. We only have yellow Gatorade. It will help your tummy, too.”

To her credit, she takes it and holds it in her lap, looking down at it with disdain. She opens and closes her mouth a few times, then wrinkles up her nose and holds the cup back up to you, “It’s stinky.”

You try to not sigh - lemon-lime is an intense flavor and probably won’t taste the best after vomiting, but it is all you have. You crouch down so you are eye level with your daughter and rub her leg, trying to be encouraging, “I know, but it will help your tummy. Can you try for me?”

She looks between you and the cup about fifteen times, her little eyes full of doubt, before bringing it up to her mouth and taking a sip. She does not swallow - instead she looks disgusted before opening her mouth and letting the drink spill down her chin.

“Oh, no, no, let’s not do that,” you groan. You use your t-shirt - which is luckily your cleaning shirt and gross anyways - to wipe her face and soak up the yellow liquid.

“Icky,” Mouse informs you, then adds, “I want blue Pedi-lyte. Please?”

You take in your daughter, looking so tiny wrapped up on the couch. How awful it must be to not only be nauseous, but to be so with enhanced senses. You’ve thrown up enough times to know what an unpleasant aftertaste it leaves, so she must be so miserable.

You rub your hands over your face and give in, “Okay, let Mommy go change into real people clothes, and we will go get some for you.”

----

You are no stranger to midnight runs to the bodega two blocks west. You had moved into your current apartment when you were about six months pregnant, and you had spent month seven waddling your way there almost every night for a slice of cake. The late-night cashier, Sal, practically watched Minnie grow up and he is one of the few people who she will talk to unprompted. So, you don’t feel embarrassed when you stroll in wearing sweatpants and a band-tank top, with Minnie still in her jammies - Sal has seen you in worse states and at least you aren’t wearing a robe and slippers.

There’s a couple of college aged boys lingering around the snacks section who smell heavily of marijuana, and they seem more interested in talking about what chips to get than anything, so only your hyper paranoid mind makes you take notice as you make your way to the drink coolers. You pass all the fun things and go to the very back corner of the storefront where the small selection of medicinal goods are.

Tampons, Tylenol, and band aids are stacked low on the dry goods shelf, and across from them, practically on the floor of the cooler, is one row of Pedialyte. The gods must be smiling on you because it is indeed the blue flavor your daughter is desiring.

You open the cooler, and with Minnie on your hip, squat down to retrieve your prize. Almost instantly, she starts making grabby hands for it, asking with a bit of a whine, “Mommy, open it.”

“We have to pay for it first, then you can drink it,” you remind her, feeling guilty as you do. You can see the upset in her eyes, and to try and mitigate the damage, you offer, “Do you want to help buy it?”

Mouse, always the eager helper, nods against you, so you hand over the drink, stand, and start making your way to the counter. The stoned boys are debating which chips will leave the least amount of residue on their gaming controllers as you pass them and part of you wants to stop and listen. You don’t have an interest in video games beyond silly ones on your phone, but their passion is intense, and you agree Cheeto dust is one of the worst things in the world. You are lucky Minnie finds them gross and much prefers pretzels as her chip of choice.

As you come up to the checkout, Sal looks up from his phone and gives you a pleasant smile, “Late night snack run?”

Minnie pipes up before you can, leaning forward as far as she can to hold out the bottle towards him, “I wanna buy this, please, thank you.”

Sal, ever kind, reaches across the counter to get it so you don’t have to try to lean in, “Ahhh, no snacks. Tummy troubles?”

“Tummy troubles,” you confirm. You dig into your purse for your wallet as he begins to ring you up.

Sal clicks his tongue in sympathy, before telling you, “My daughter, Sasha, the tall one, she always had the tummy troubles, too. Turns out, she was allergic to corn. Do you know how much corn is in everything in America?”

You make a face at that because you do, in fact, know how much corn is in everything. “I’m sorry to hear that.”

In your arms, always wanting to mimic you, Minnie gives a solemn nod to Sal, “Sorry to hear.”

Sal laughs warmly, “You are kind. I hope your tummy troubles are not from corn, but too many sweets.”

That makes Mouse giggle, which warms your heart. When you are told the total, you hand her your card to hand over to Sal. The sweet man swipes it, then addresses Minnie, “Debit or credit?”

Despite not knowing what that means, she instantly replies with, “Credit!” making you smile all the more.

“Yes, we will charge it,” he says. The receipt prints and he hands that and the card back to you before bagging the Pedialyte in a little black baggie and handing that to Minnie. “Your purchase, little ma’am.”

“Thank you!” she chimes, and you thank Sal as well. The college boys have finally decided on their snack, so you vacate the counter so they can make their purchase, wishing the cashier a good rest of his night.

As you exit the bodega, Minnie bonks your arm with the bagged bottle, “Mommy, open it now. We buyed it.”

“Okay, okay.”

You set her down on the ground, then get the bottle out so you can crack it open. You help your little one take a few careful sips and once she is done, she smacks her lips.

“Not icky?” You ask and she gives a big nod in response.

“Not icky.”

“How is your tummy?”

Her fist goes right into her mouth as she thinks over the question. You use the time to recap the drink and drop it back into the bag, then put that into your purse.

“It feels like jumping dinosaurs,” Mouse finally tells you, “Going ‘bah bah bah’. Like sheepies.”

You have no idea what that is supposed to mean, but you guess that she feels better. She seems more chipper, which isn’t what you need closing in on midnight. If you don’t get home soon and get her back into bed, you are going to have a very grumpy toddler in the morning.

Which will go great with your expected grumpiness - you still have to finish cleaning the bathroom and who knows how long that is going to take. You’ll need to redo the toilet and throw a load of laundry into the wash. You’ll probably get to bed around two if you are lucky.

So, with the complete intention of tiring your daughter out, you ask her, “Do you want to walk back home holding Mommy’s hand?”

Which completely does the trick and Minnie takes your hand so you can walk back home together, and you begin heading that way.

Despite being the city that never sleeps, the streets around you are pretty empty. You haven’t come across any other foot traffic and you’ve only seen a few cars roll by, so to you, it seems like a quiet night.

You wonder if that is how Minnie sees it - or in her case - hears it.

It has been mind boggling learning her range of hearing and how much input she must constantly receive.

Matt is still working on making you his binder - Karen has apparently taken to copy editing it - but he has given you a preview of a few pages and you can barely comprehend it. You think you would go insane if you could hear everyone talking all at once, all the time. Your anxiety would be astronomical, but your sweet Mouse doesn’t seem bothered in day-to-day life.

You’ve been watching her play more and more and you’ve been learning what catches her attention and interests. To your surprise, it has been music. The little wiggles and shakes she sometimes does is apparently her interpretation of dancing and you have been making her a little playlist for her birthday. You think a dance party would be a fun thing to do the night before the zoo trip, to help get out all her energy. You haven’t told her this yet, but you did ask her to let you know when she hears a song she wants to dance to, so you can look into it.

You don’t want to add anything inappropriate after all.

You look down at your daughter as you walk, a little smile coming to your face. She’s watching her feet, and it looks like she’s trying to step on her own shadow without making a big deal of it. You’ve seen her do that before or try to walk one foot in front of the other. You aren’t the fastest walker - you tend to stroll - so you never worry about her games slowing you down.

Plus, if it wears her out, all the better for you.

You are about half a block away from your building when Minnie suddenly halts and whirls her head back towards the bodega. Curious, you stop as well, wondering what she has heard now.

“What is it, sweetie?”

“There’s a hoot-hoot!” She whisper-yells, looking up to you with the biggest, purest smile.

Your heart practically bursts from your chest with love and your smile grows to match hers, “A hoot-hoot? Can you tell me about the hoot-hoot?”

She nods, then you watch in slow motion as your daughter’s absolute joy morphs into that of horror and before you can even process what is happening, something is ripping you away from Minnie by the base of your neck.

You are pivoted left and slammed face first into the brownstone staircase you were just walking by. Your vision goes spotty as pain erupts from the center of your forehead - confusion and panic begin to consume you.

All you can hear is your daughter screaming in fear.

You have no idea what is going on, but all you know is Minnie needs you, and that ignites something deep and primal in your chest.

There is something grabbing and pulling at your top and your purse - which you wear crossbody - and you realize someone is trying to mug you. Fear fills you as you struggle to get away, break free, but whoever it is is stronger than you and keeps slamming you back against the stone.

“Mommy!”

The thing inside your chest bursts to life when you hear Minnie cry for you and you kick backwards best you can, trying to dislodge your attacker. Your foot catches their knee and both of you go tumbling to the ground. You hit the cement hard only to be crushed under the weight of your assailant as they land on top of you.

You refuse to stay still, squirming and trying to army crawl out from under the mugger, but they easily overpower you. Hands wrap around your throat from behind and you are temporarily overwhelmed by the stench of body odor and filth. You are pressed down into the sidewalk for a split second before being yanked back and you just barely manage to turn your face as you are violently forced back down again. Gravel and glass tear at your cheek.

Something tangles itself into your hair and your head is once again being pulled back, but you won’t give up. You reach back over your head and grab onto the arm of the person attacking you. You feel flesh, so you curl your fingers and dig your nails in the best you can.

There is a feral, pained yowl, then your head meets the ground again, but it doesn’t stop. They are trying to push you down into the sidewalk using all their weight, like they are trying to crush your skull.

You kick and buck as hard as you are able to, thrashing desperately in an attempt to break away. The pain is quickly becoming all encompassing, but Minnie is crying, and you need to get to her.

You try to get an arm under you, to try and help to push you up, but there is so much weight and all of it is centered on your upper back and skull.

You can’t get up.

You can’t get to Minnie.

You can’t save your daughter.

There is a deep and furious roar, then the crushing weight of your attacker is ripped off of you.

You gasp for breath as you quickly roll onto your side, terrified you're going to be pushed back into the dirt and smothered. Your vision is swimming, blurry and half black, and everything, everything hurts.

“DADDY!”

Your eyes snap open and you try to push yourself up onto shaky arms. You try to turn around to find your daughter, but your body doesn’t want to obey anymore, and you collapse back onto the ground. You force your legs to move the best you can, trying to roll until you can find your daughter.

“Minnie..” you try to call out but you aren’t sure if any noise escapes your lips.

“Mommy!”

The darkness wraps itself around you and begins to drag you down into its depths. The last thing your mind catches before it switches off is your little Mouse, screaming for you.

“MOMMY!”

“MOMMY!!”

---

:3C

---

tags:

@midnightreids @cloudroomblog @yeonalie @thychuvaluswife

@petrovafire39 @ghostindeath

@allllium

@anehkael

@nennia-2000 @seasonofthenerd @abucketofweird @mattmurdockstateofmind @imagineswritersblog @hazelhavoc @smile-child-13 @allst4rsfall @hashcakes @kezibear @mapleaye @sammanna @gamingfeline @moon-glades @nightwitherspring @phoenix666stuff @dare-devil

@ladyoflynx @hobiebrowns-wife @sarcasm-n-insomnia @lillycore

@dorothleah @mattmurdocksstarlight @mars-on-vinyl @mywellspringoflife @sleepdeprived-barelyalive @simmilarly @soupyspence @darkened-writer @akila-twt

@murc0ckmurc0ck @groovycass @sumo-b98 @just3rowsing @tongueofcat @zoom1374

@theclassicvinyldragon @aoi-targaryen @lunaticgurly @nikitawolfxo @shireentapestry @snakevyro @yondiii @echos-muses @honeybug-victoria @the-bisaster @ristare

@mrs-bellingham @eugene-emt-roe @cometenthusiast @stevenknightmarc @yes-im-your-mom @hunnybelha @actorinfluence @capbrie @prowlingforfood @jupitervenusearthmars

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@mayp11-blog @danzer8705 @thinking-at-dusk @remuslupinwifee @akila-twt @nommingonfood@mattmurdocks6thscaleapartment @dil3mma @allllium

two-unbeatable-beaters @kiwwia-wiwwia @1988-fiend @xblueriddlex @loves0phelia @ninacotte @lovelyygirl8 @littlenosoul @ednaaa-04 @ astridstark13

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@starry-night-20 @rebeccapineapple @writtenbyred @cherrypie5 @capswife @silvercharacterchaos @resting-confused-face

#soulie writes #fanfiction #daredevil #matt murdock x reader #matt murdock x you

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seungmoonandstars · 5 months

Text

Kim Seungmin/gn!reader

wc: ~660

rating: fluff -`♡´- (some words of encouragement from Minnie, for anon)

comments: thank you for the request! this was kinda therapeutic for me to write as well

You were asleep. Somehow, even with the unnecessary amount of noise coming from the party downstairs, and all of the coffee you consumed today, you fell asleep.

It’s not even that you dozed off—the problem is you missed Seungmin’s phone call. That was probably the only free time he had for the night, and you missed him. The sting of tears is already making your face prickle, your cheeks hot, your throat tight.

This is not the worst thing in the world, and you’ll probably talk to him tomorrow, but you’re home right now, and it’s New Year’s Eve, and you want nothing more than to spend it with him. But you’re stuck at home, and you’re stuck with people you do not want to be around. And somehow, spending the new year with them is even worse than your regular home visits.

Missing the call was just the cherry on top. It’s been a rough few days without him around.

You pull up the last message he sent—a very cute selfie. He doesn't look like he's dressed for stage yet, but that's probably where is now…on stage. The message after that just says “are they holding you hostage?”

And a voicemail! Seungmin never leaves you voicemails. He leaves very long text messages, sometimes voice messages. Never actual voicemails. You put your earbuds in and open it.

Before you hear him, you hear a few distant, familiar voices in the background. And then he starts…

Hi, hi. I’m sorry I’m missing you, wherever you are. Hopefully they aren’t keeping you away from your phone just to be mean. Or maybe you fell asleep…you don’t do very good on planes. But if you fell asleep, I hope you feel better and well rested. And don’t be upset that you missed my call, because I know you are. We’ll talk soon.

There are a few beats of silence on his end, but you can hear him very faintly talking to someone else. And then another voice pops up…

Hellooooo YN

It’s the unmistakable voice of Felix. You can hear his giggle taper off as he walks away.

Okay sorry I’m back. Anyway…I’m sure it feels like the holiday will last forever, but it won’t. You’ll get through it, and then you can get back to me where you belong. But you slept at least! That killed some time. Take the rest of the day hour to hour…that’s what you tell me when I’m having a bad day. And then when tomorrow comes, just think, you’re a whole day closer to coming back. Taking your own advice is tough sometimes, though.

He takes another breath, clears his throat. You pause it for a moment to open up the message thread. You look at his selfie again, then type a quick message.

“I was asleep, but I’m listening to your voicemail now. Please call again as soon as you can 🤍”

Taking anyone’s advice is hard, actually. Sometimes it seems easier just to sit and be sad. But don’t do that! That just makes the time drag. I’ll send you a selfie as soon as I finish. And then you send me one after you listen. Okay? A smiling one.

You laugh at that. Seungmin rarely smiles for you in his selfies. He looks brooding and serious, or he’s sipping his coffee. Sometimes he makes a kissy face—that’s close enough to a smile. That’s what you’ll send him.

I should go before I get cut off or take up the rest of your voicemail storage. Until we talk again, you’re strong and wonderful and special. And you’re my favorite person.

You hear Felix pipe up again in the background...

you’re my favorite person, too!

…get your own favorite person, yongbok…

I will talk to you soon. Bye. Bye bye my love.

You roll onto your back and listen again.

#kim seungmin #skz seungmin #seungmin x you #seungmin x reader #seungmin x y/n #kim seungmin x reader #kim seungmin x you #kim seungmin x y/n #kim seungmin fluff #requests

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leviathans-watching · 1 year

Note

Could you please do the om brothers x reader where the reader thought they were home alone so they were doing chores while listening to music and dancing but then the brothers find them? If that makes any sense

the older brothers catching you dancing

includes: the older brothers x/& gn!reader (no pronouns mentioned)

wc: .6k | rated g | m.list

a/n: oml this was so so so cute! i hope you enjoy! my inbox is temporarily closed to reqs but still come chat w me!

please reblog :3

lucifer leans against the doorframe, watching you. you don’t note his presence, too absorbed in your activity, which seem to be less cleaning and more dancing.

you’re not trying to be good, or impress anyone, and lucifer can’t hear whatever music you’re listening to, so the overall effect is more comical and than impressive, but as lucifer watches, he thinks it’s actually quite cute.

then you begin to sing, and it takes everything in his power for him to stifle his chuckles, not alert you to the fact that you’re being watched.

you finally turn around, freezing when you see him. “um, hi,” you say, pulling out an earbud, and your embarrassment is quite adorable.

“hello,” he says quietly, unable to hide his smile. “quite the moves that you’ve got there.”

“ugh, don’t even!” you cross your arms. “why didn’t you say anything! this is so mortifying!”

“because it was cute,” he replies simply, honestly, and somehow, you get more embarrassed.

mammon calls out for you, knowing you’re home, but when he receives no answer, moves further into the house. when he finally finds you he can’t help but stop, struck by how funny you are.

you’re totally in your own world, using the duster like a microphone.

normally, mammon wouldn’t hesitate to whip out his ddd and take a video, as it would doubtless garner thousands of likes, but something stops him. he kind of wants this moment all to himself.

eventually, when a few minutes pass and you still don’t notice him, he moves further into the room, reaching out to you. at his touch on your shoulder, you spin around, startled, then break out into a grin.

“oh, hey!”

“how goes the cleaning?” mammon asks with a wry smile, and you shrug, unashamed.

“eh, well enough. how was your day?”

“better now that i’ve that,” mammon says, and you roll your eyes.

“yeah? well, you know what would make my day better?”

“what?” mammon asks, folding his arms. he already knows the request is going to be dumb.

“if you dance with me!”

you stare at him with an expectant smile, then hold out your hand. with a half-sigh, half-laugh, mammon takes it. “i can’t hear the music,” he warns, and you shrug.

“that’s okay. that only mean’s i’ll have to lead.”

levi is struck by a cuteness overload. “oh my gosh!” he mutters to himself. “this is straight out of one of my domestic, slice-of-life animes like i find my partner dancing in the living room while they’re supposed to be doing chores. how lucky am i!”

on top of that, he can hear you humming the tune and it’s totally one of ruri-chan’s theme songs! you’re like, the most perfect person ever!

eventually, you seem to tire out and stop for a break. levi moves in then, heart pounding.

“mc, that was so cute! you should totally become an idol and dance and sing on stage!” he pauses. “wait, no, don’t do that! i couldn’t bear to share you with anyone else. i’ll get jealous!”

“when are you not jealous,” you ask, turning to face him with a smile. “and don’t worry, i don’t have any plans to go pro. how ling have you been home?”

“oh, you know, a few minutes,” he answered nebulously, and you squint at him.

“you’ve totally been watching me, haven’t you?”

“it’s like when a fan sees their favorite being cute,” levi defends. “i wasn’t going to spoil the moment.”

“you’re such an otaku,” you say. “but, thankfully, i like that side of you so i suppose that’s fine.”

leviathans-watching's work - please do not copy, repost, or claim as your own

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yuyusuyu · 2 months

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yuyusuyu's 100 followers milestone event! — 02. mingi, i can't be your love

req by @4ssun : can i ask for mingi with #5 for a fem reader? preferably angst with little comfort at the end? no set scenario! ^^ congratulations on 100 followers!! <3

pairing. best friend! song mingi x fem! reader ft. choi san

genres/aus. angst with little comfort, non idol au, right person wrong time au

warnings. none but it is... quite a bit angsty (kind of? idk but if i were to describe it it's like an aching feeling)

rating. sfw

wc. 0.9 k

a/n. i am so so sorry for the lateness! uni is such a terrible thing >:( and i also rewrote this like... way too many times for me to count since i got this request hhhhh but this version is the one and i hope you like it! ps. i think my attempt at that little comfort part is... lowkey not little comfort help

NO matter what, without fail, you are always reminded how you will always be mingi’s best friend—nothing more and nothing less. but to you? mingi will always be someone that you can never have, someone that will never be yours no matter how hard you try to get him to love you just as you love him.

you hate how everyone fed your delusions, fed you lies for years and years that you and mingi would just… end up together; that it was inevitable. you two, to many, are soulmates. two people destined to be together no matter what. but at the end of the day, with each lovesick gaze he directs at his partners, you’re reminded that you can’t be his love.

or rather… you will never be his love. and every spring, without fail, you’re reminded of this because every spring, his love blossoms beautifully for a lucky person.

it’s a tough pill to swallow. the fact leaves you feeling remorseful on days where you’re overflowing with the love you have for your best friend. why can’t he see you as something more? why can’t he just look at you?

why can’t he just love you?

well, the answer is as clear as day to you. mingi already loves someone. he loves someone that isn’t you.

he always loves someone that isn’t you.

loving song mingi is horrible.

loving song mingi is like loving the sun, and loving the sun entails being in its warmth and never feeling cold. (only except you do. you feel cold once his warmth leaves you and is directed at someone else.)

and loving song mingi is like loving summer, and loving summer means there will be endless nights of laughter and smiles, endless promises declared under the beating sunlight and endless hours spent driving down the streets with the windows rolled down while singing terribly at the top of your lungs.

loving song mingi truly is horrible because loving song mingi means you have to see him love someone else in front of your aching heart.

and you can only hope that your longing slowly ebbs away like the tides of a beach on a summer night. maybe then… maybe then you can love someone who loves you back.

there was never a time where you weren’t with him and he wasn’t with you. mingi truly can’t recall a time where you weren’t together. even when summer sun begins to go down and is replaced by cold breezes, as summer transitions to autumn, you are always together.

it’s hard for him to even imagine such a thing—not being with you.

that’s a hard thing to imagine.

living it is… even harder, he realizes.

yeah, living without you is harder.

as he walks down the street, red and yellow leaves falling and crunching underneath the soles of his shoes, he wonders if that’s how your friendship was.

if that’s how it fell and ended.

it’s a thought he doesn't continue to entertain as he stuffs his hands into the pockets of his jacket and sings along to the song that plays in his earbuds, his voice barely audible.

mingi continues to walk down the street, eventually making it to your his favorite coffee place. before entering, he stops and stares at the sight in front of him, his gaze following after you as you keep walking away.

you didn’t even look back at him.

and yet he continues to look at you.

winter is by far the coldest season he’s experienced thus far. he has himself to blame for this. if he had been a little quicker, a little faster in realizing things, maybe you’d be keeping him warm like always.

after all, you were like the sun to him. or rather, you are the sun to him—so bright and warm. you make him feel warm, but he hasn’t felt that way in a while. it’s been so long since you both last talked to each other.

in fact, it’s been so long that it feels surreal to see you standing in front of him. you still look so pretty, and he notes that there are no longer dark bags underneath your eyes. you’re radiant; though, he supposes it’s because of the man next to you with a cat-like appearance. you’ve looked so much happier ever since he started seeing the two of you next to one another, seemingly glued to each other’s hips.

just like how you two used to be.

mingi knows that you see him, he can tell by the way your eyes widened slightly before softening. you smile at him and he smiles back just as you walk away, your laughter echoing loudly in your eyes at something the man says to you.

and at that moment, if someone were to ask him how it feels to love you, mingi would say that loving you is beautifully warm.

yeah, loving you feels like the warmth that hugs you when you walk in the snow. loving you feels like the warming pads that he carries around in his pockets, the ones he grips with all his might to not feel cold. loving you is like craving heat and warmth in the cold.

it wasn’t always like that.

at one point, loving you felt like blooming flowers.

but not it isn’t because mingi realized he loves you a little too late.

mingi loves you and you love someone else, and mingi will always love you while you used to love him once upon a time.

PERMA TAGLIST — @asjkdk @kodzukein @hrt4jeno @jeonride @lissiesykes @satsuri3su @atinytownclown @ad0rechuu @szakias @sanhwaism

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theywhowriteandknowthings · 5 months

Text

Dave York x OC/Reader (TPATD universe) Seeking Comfort.

This blog is a 18+ space, Minors, do not engage. If you are under the age of 18 you are not welcome here. Your reading and consumption of my work is your responsibility but I will endeavour to mitigate any discomfort for you, the reader, as possible. Once again, this is a 18+ space and minors should not interact. Specific Warnings: Cock warming, mentions of Dave's job(hitman), longing/yearnig, established relationship, PiV sex, unprotected sex (be responsible wrap it up).

Thanks again to @angelofsmalldeath-codeine and @ramblers-lets-get-ramblin for taking a quick look over this one. I got inspired by @creedslove's Post Here for this one. I just became obsessed. Thank you for this inspo. 2000~ Words [Read on Ao3]

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Dave slumps against the front door, suitcase falling with a dull thud against the wooden floorboards as he finally lets out a sigh of relief.

Every time he crosses the threshold into his home – your home – calm begins to settle over him like a warm, weighted blanket. It leeches the cold emptiness from his bones, brings him back to himself, to you.

But he can’t fight off the phantom blood on his hands, the constricting guilt of what he does. He forces himself to get up, pushing off the door with a groan as he shrugs off his coat. He toes off his loafers too, setting both of them on the shoe rack before hanging up his coat.

Practiced, simple, movements that help him ground himself.

“Baby?” He calls out but you don’t respond, “I’m home?”

A pang of fear cuts through his gut like a knife as he strides into the kitchen, eyes frantic as he searches for you. His panic is short lived as he sees you, your back turned to him as you’re hunched over an inordinate number of papers splayed across the breakfast counter.

Dave smiles to himself as his heart rate slows. He pads up behind you slowly and places his hands either side of you. His thick fingers gripping the countertop as he rests his head on your shoulder. He spots the headphones stuck in your ears and tuts.

“Hey, baby,” you grumble as you pull the earbuds out, “You’re home late.”

“And you’re up late,” he counters as he presses his strong nose behind your ear, his plush lips raking over your skin.

“Couldn’t sleep, got court on Monday and I’m not sure I can win this case for her.”

“How long have you been banging your head against the wall, baby?”

You groan as you’re forced to face that reality yourself. The clock on the oven blinks smugly at you, red numbers mocking you as you realise it’s gone two in the morning. You had completely lost track of time.

“Shit, I don’t know,” you groan as you lean back against Dave’s broad chest, humming softly as he sucks gently at your skin. His eyes are already closed as he breathes you in.

“Come on, bedroom,” his voice is barely a whisper as he issues the command.

“But, Dave, I need to get this-,” you start but Dave’s eyes flick open, and he gives you a look you know all too well. It tells you that there’s no arguing with him. But you don’t mind, you’re all too willing to follow his command.

“Fine, but I need to be up early.”

Dave hums in agreement as he nips at the column of your neck before stepping around to your side, holding his hand out for you. You gladly take it, and he pulls you into a tight embrace, his strong arms wrapping around you, fusing you to him as he kisses the top of your head.

Once he’s ready to move he scoops you up in his arms, bridal style, before ascending the stairs to your bedroom. You cling to him, hands fisted in his shirt as you try to get as close as you can. You know he’s carrying something especially bad this time, he’s trembling by the time he sets you down on the bed.

“Clothes.”

You nod, knowing that he prefers to keep things short, efficient, when he’s come back from a job. You strip in front of one another, and you let your eyes linger on his cock. It curves up a little, his tip covered by his foreskin, but you know that he’s leaking by how hard he is. His lips are curved up into an amused smirk when he catches you staring. He silently sits on the base of the bed and spreads his legs wide, welcoming you with a silent command.

You slot yourself between his legs, hands on his shoulders as you bend down to kiss him slowly. His hands slide up the backs of your thighs, his callouses pulling and catching delightfully on your skin. You shudder at the sensation, running your tongue along the seam of his mouth. He lets you in, his tongue dancing with yours as you groan into his mouth.

His firm hands lift you up, careful not to break the kiss as he sits you on his lap. You can feel the heft of his cock between your bodies as he holds you close, unmoving for a while. You’re dripping already, the anticipation for what is to come driving you insane.

But you know that you have to let Dave have control here, he needs to do it at his pace. Like always, this is more than just about sex.

One of his hands slides between you, his thick fingers dipping down to your core. He moans into your mouth as he drags his middle finger through your folds.

“Always so ready for me, aren’t you, Princess?” Dave taunts you as he breaks the kiss, pressing his slick forehead against yours.

“Could say the same thing to you, Duke,” you chuckle softly as you lean back and wrap a hand around his length, pulling back his foreskin slowly. You love the way he groans as you pump him slowly, his precome smearing over his tip as you work.

“Up.”

Dave’s voice is little more than a hoarse whisper as he returns his hand to your hip, already lifting you to line up over his cock. You hold him steady as he notches his tip at your core. He guides you down slowly, letting you sink onto him at your own pace. You cradle the back of his neck with your hands, thumbs pressed against his throat as you move.

The burn is delicious as you feel him stretch you out. You pant and whine at the way his dick twitches inside you. Dave’s hands are firm on your hips, making sure you don’t strain yourself. You try not to grind against him as he settles deep inside you. Your thighs are clammy as you feel the weight of Dave inside you. It’s so tight, so snug, you move your hands to his shoulders, blunt nails digging into his skin.

“So good to me,” he mutters as he presses his head against your sternum. His strong arms snake around you, one around your waist, holding you down. The other arm presses against your spine, broad hand splayed between your shoulder blades.

You rest your chin on Dave’s head, burying your nose in his hair. Your arms rest on his shoulders as you play with the hair at the nape of his neck. It’s getting long enough to curl ever so slightly at the ends. He smells like cheap hotel soap, and you close your eyes as you try not to think too hard about what it’s covering up.

“Missed you while you were away,” you say softly as you clench around him. You don’t mean to, but the soft, wet kiss to your damp skin catches you off guard. You whimper a little as he twitches inside you.

Dave doesn’t respond verbally, he simply tightens his grip on you, pulling you down onto him. But there’s no room to move, you’re already so tightly pressed together. The action is symbolic, a silent “thank you, I missed you too”.

You don’t need him to say it back, you’ve been together long enough, been through so much. You know what you mean to him, even when he can’t say it.

You stay there for some time, both of you needing this. Needing to just feel one another after so long apart.

You, after knowing there is always a chance Dave won’t come home. No matter how many times he comes back to you, no matter how many times he promises he will. You always feel a gaping hole in your chest when he’s gone. You need him to mend that tear in your chest.

Dave needs it so he can feel human again, to know that no matter what he has to do. No matter how bloody his hands get, that he still has a soul. He needs to feel you like he needs oxygen to breathe, like he needs to eat and drink, you sustain him. You make him feel whole, wanted, human.

You begin to tremble as the need for him to move becomes too much. You’ve been warming him for less than twenty minutes but you’re so desperate. The hand splayed across your back moves to cup your jaw. You lean back and smile down at him as his dark brown eyes threaten to swallow you whole.

“Hey,” he mumbles as he rubs his thumb over your cheekbone.

“Hey,” you respond, your thighs tremble as you watch him tilt his head up, pulling you down to kiss him.

It starts slow, soft, tender kisses as his hips grind slowly, his cock nudging your g-spot. You moan, your mouth falling slack as you finally feel the relief flood through you. The pressure eases, building quickly into a fizzling sensation at the base of your spine.

Dave runs his tongue over your bottom lip, and you dart your own out to meet him. Your tongues twist together outside of your mouths before you slot your mouth over his. You thread your fingers through the hair at the base of his skull as you invade his mouth, swallowing his groans as he slowly fucks up into you.

It’s slow, intimate even, as he takes his time. He pulls almost all the way out, making you whimper at the teasing action, then he pulls you down once more. You feel every ridge and vein of his cock rake through your walls as he fills you up again. It’s so slow it’s maddening, and you can feel your orgasm building. Pleasure ripples under your skin as Dave’s kisses get greedier, his tongue dominating your mouth. No matter how hard you try and match his tenacity he doubles down.

His hips start to snap up harder, his cock punching up into your soaked cunt. You wail as you feel the thick pad of his thumb swipe over your clit. His palm on your pubic bone, pressuring your abdomen as he increases the speed and intensity of his thumb on your swollen bundle of nerves.

Soon you’re both panting into one another’s mouths, no longer able to keep your lips on each other. You’re whimpering and whining at every drag of his cock inside you. His grunts are getting higher pitched, breathy and desperate as he buries his face in your neck. Your cunt squeezes tight around Dave as your release bursts from your core. You cry out as you feel the pressure on your clit increase just as Dave sucks hard at the skin on your clavicle.

His pace doesn’t falter until the last second as his lips leave your skin as he fucks up into you hard one last time, stilling as he spills inside you. He lets out a barely there whimper before he lolls his head forward, his forehead pressed against your sternum.

“Thank you,” he breathes as he pants heavily beneath you, his arms wrapped around you as he holds you close. His hot breath fanning out against the slick skin of your chest, his lips brushing your skin with featherlight kisses.

“Don’t need to thank me, Dave, I needed that too,” you admonish him with a playful slap on his shoulder as you bury your face in his hair. No more does he smell like cheap hotel soap and regret. He smells like you, and him, and the beautiful concoction of your combined pleasure.

“I missed you,” he mumbles, his voice already heavy with fatigue, “Love you.”

“I love you too, Dave,” you nuzzle your nose against his scalp as you press barely there kisses to his damp hair, “Now come on, I need to pee, and we both need some rest.”

“Yes ma’am.”

You ease off of Dave’s lap and hold your hand out to him. He takes it without hesitation, and you lead him into your shared bathroom. In less than five minutes you’re in bed, cleaned up, sated, and snuggled into Dave’s side. You feel him pull you close as he begins to drift off and you can’t help but smile. You’re finally at peace, at home, now he’s here.

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hoshologies · 11 months

Text

⌗ nct dream as romance tropes

syn. exactly what it says on the tin. the dreamies as different romance tropes, some common, some not.

pairing. nct dream/gn reader.

gen, tropes, & rating. romance. college, missed connections, faking dating, strangers to lovers, matchmaking, friends to lovers, one sided pining. 16+.

warnings. (potentially) underage drinking, profanity.

word count. 3.6k (approx. 450-550 words per member).

mark lee is the boy you spend spring break with. you’d managed to get on a study abroad trip to europe for the vacation, but as the only person from your friend group going, you’d worried about spending the week and a half alone. thank god, then, that mark is also the only one from his friend group going.

you connect during the bi-weekly class sessions leading up to your departure, sitting alone near the back of the small lecture hall. you chat before the faculty leader starts speaking and you giggle amongst yourselves when you have to step into the hallway to practice getting on and off the subway, your arms linked so you don’t get “left behind.” when you both decide to take the charter bus to the airport, mark is the one who packs his suitcase early and heads to your apartment to help you stay awake and do last minute cleaning before he drives you both to the meeting point. you sleep on his shoulder the entire bus ride, in the seats at your gate, you even manage to have seats next to each other on your overnight flight and you fall asleep watching a movie together and sharing your blanket.

spring break is full of the two of you wandering rome together, sharing cups piled high with gelato at the piazza navona, and navigating the parisian subway from the city center to the catacombs. he takes pictures of you on his film camera in st. peter’s basilica; you sneak a selfie together with the ceiling of the sistine chapel, your faces cut off halfway. you climb the bell tower of the duomo in florence, laughing breathlessly when you make it to the top, and you walk the gardens of the palace of versailles together, shoulders brushing as you take in the scenery and chill air of a mid-march morning. on your final night, you watch the eiffel tower glitter from montparnasse and you swear mark looks like he wants to kiss you; you want him to.

but then the trip is over and you go back home. you share seats on the charter bus again and you fall asleep on his shoulder again. he takes you back to your apartment, walks you to your door all bleary eyed and sleepy. you’re worried that this is the last time you’ll see him as you stand at your window and watch him get into his car and drive off. looking at the picture a stranger took of you and mark on the ponte vecchio, his arm around your shoulders and his gaze fixed on you rather than the camera, you realize you cannot let this be the end.

huang renjun is a missed connection. he’s the boy you see all over town, but never work up the courage to introduce yourself to. he’s tall and lanky, always dressed so nice and looking so out of place among everyone else. he’s got soft features, all gentle edges and round, sad eyes. you always find yourself wanting to wrap him up in your arms, fantasizing what his body slotted against yours would feel like. is he warm, soft as he looks?

you see him at your favorite cafe, keeping to himself while he studies and drinks his coffee and picks at his french toast crepe. you spot him on campus, backpack slung over his shoulder on his way to class or laying out on the greens and reading a book. some days, you’re lucky enough to catch the same subway car as him, earbuds in and his eyes trained on the horizon through the window. sometimes, you even end up in the same aisle as him at the convenience store down the street from your apartment. you stand opposite each other, considering your different choices of ramen.

still, with all your instances of seeing him, you’ve never scrounged together the courage you feel you need to talk to him for the first time. even if you could, one glimpse of that lopsided grin of his would have you crumbling anyways, a weakness before you even get the chance to ask for his name. so you resign yourself to only admire him from afar and he, completely unknown to him, will forever be known as the “cute cafe boy” amongst your friend group.

you spend months like that, cherishing the glimpses you get of him. because you often exist in the same spaces with the same schedule, like the cafe on tuesday afternoons at eleven in the morning, you decide to give the barista money one day, tell them that you want to pay for his coffee when he gets here, describe him as the tall, lanky boy with the big brown eyes and gentle voice; they always know who you’re talking about. you tell them to not tell him who paid for it, just that a stranger wanted to pay forward some kindness.

when he arrives and orders, the barista relays the message and they swear up and down the wall it was a stranger, but the glance they cast over his left shoulder is telling. when he turns away, his eyes land on you, too wrapped up in your laptop to notice. but he’s too shy to say anything and so when he gets home, he writes a missed connection posting on your community’s page, the same one your friend frequents to look for free or cheap furniture.

you were at the greenhouse cafe today (tuesday) around 11:15 in the morning. i went there to study and get coffee, but the barista said someone had paid for it already. you wanted to stay a stranger, but if you’re the person i think you are, i want to thank you properly. ramen at the convenience store by our apartment buildings?

maybe your friend oughta pass this on to you.

lee jeno is a friend of a friend, who your friend manages to convince to fake date you for a couple of group outings. she drags you to so many big group events, like drinks at the favorite bar or clubbing or even group movie nights at apartments. out of a group of ten, you and jeno are the only two single ones. it can be annoying being the only singles, especially when you’ve made it perfectly clear that you don’t have an issue with not seeing anyone right now; it’ll happen when it happens, you find yourself saying at least once a week, it’s just not a priority right now and i don’t mind it.

jeno faces the same line of irritating questioning, so when you’re out with your friends beom gyu and haechan (the instigators of the group), haechan suggests a scheme to get the rest of your friends off your backs. “just pretend you’re dating for a little while. act a little coupley at our hangouts and then, like… just say that you decided your lives are going in different directions, so you’ve broken up, but it’s amicable and there’s no hard feelings! simple as that.”

beomgyu cosigns almost immediately, a mischievous glint in his eyes, and it kind of scares you. the number of times this duo has instigated things, harmless as they may be, is something to be worried about. you’re a little skeptical, but when you look over at jeno, he’s looking back at you. he gives you a nonchalant shrug and an easy it would get them off our backs for a while. it’s not like we have to actually go out on dates or anything.

it’d just be acting, sure, and you’ve never particularly been into jeno, but his last sentence stings a little, somewhere deep and dark within you. regardless, you ignore the subtle hurt and you nod, mimicking his shrug. sure, why not?

the next time the whole group is together, you and jeno sit together, shoulder to shoulder. almost immediately, yeji picks up on it and nearly squeals. what is this? are you dating? when jeno confirms, the whole table starts shouting, including beomgyu and haechan, the masterminds behind this whole thing (beomgyu tells you later that it was to make it look like they were surprised too). she asks when it happened, why, how, congratulates you both on your new relationship, says it’ll be great for you guys to not be ninth and tenth wheeling on hangouts anymore.

you both go on like this for a while, showing up to the bar or the club or your favorite local diner or even hangouts at someone’s apartment and sitting together, jeno’s arm draped around you or your head on his shoulder. you show up and leave hand in hand. every once in a while, he’ll even drop kisses to your temple or hairline to really seal the deal.

but your mind can’t tell the difference between what’s real and what’s fake, and the lines start to blur. you swear you’re starting to imagine things: fond glances from him, is he holding you just a little tighter or is that a figment of your imagination, why’s he lingering at your front door after dropping you off at home? there’s no chance that’s all for show, right?

lee haechan is the neighbor of the family you’re working as an au pair for. you’re young and fresh out of college, but instead of going straight into a regular job, you decided to go abroad. you were lucky to find a great job as an au pair for a couple and their seven year old daughter; they offered room and board, a good salary, and weekends off (unless needed) in exchange for your services in taking care of their child and helping maintain the house. you confirmed almost immediately and left for their country within the week, nothing but two suitcases and a carry-on.

during your first week, you stuck mainly to your host family’s house, only really leaving to drop off or pick up the daughter from school. but when the weekend rolls around and the parents are off work, they tell you to do some exploring, giving you their personal recommendations for all kinds of stores, restaurants, and cafes. the mother ushers you goodnaturedly to the front door and tells you not to come back for at least two hours, to enjoy and get to know the area, especially if you’ll be around for as long as they need you.

so with a little bit of pocket money and your backpack, you’re left standing on the front lawn with no earthly idea where to go first. you’re just about to pull out your phone and look up the closest location they recommended when a call of hey! startles you. you nearly jump out of your skin and turn to look at the person who interrupted you. he’s decently tall and broad with honey bronze skin and a life-changing smile.

he waves you over and meet him at the edge of the front lawn, his eyes bright and airy, untouched by negativity. he introduces himself as haechan, the grandson of the woman who lives next door. he tells you that he’s going to university here in the city and lives with his grandma, which surprises you; it’s really not as bad as it could be, a twenty something year old living with his grandma, he tells you, i come home to a warm meal every night. but he shakes his head, getting himself back on track.

“anyways, my grandma mentioned something about the neighbors getting a nanny and i haven’t seen you around before, so that must be you, right?”

you nod, telling him you’re an au pair (fancy term, he interjects. cooler than nanny) from abroad and you’ve never visited this country before. he smiles, radiant and welcoming, and suggests that he give you a tour of all the best places, promising to make it worth your while. when you mention that the parents told you not to come back for at least a couple of hours, he nods dutifully and says, “i’m the best tour guide you could possibly had. we’ll be gone for four hours minimum.”

it makes you laugh, the look on his face, and infected by his sunny personality, you shrug, giving him a why not? you could do with a local guide.

“lead the way.”

na jaemin is the frat boy whose friends dare him to date you. he sees you often at the parties his frat throws, always in tow with your more outgoing, popular friends. he’s not entirely sure how you become a hot topic among his friend group (he thinks it’s because you’re so different from the rest of your group), but you do. on nights they get drunk, they often end up discussing you, how you ended up in that gang of friends when you so clearly do not fit in with them; even when you do look like you’re enjoying yourself at a party, you never quite get to the level your friends do.

one night, the discussion turns to a rumor that they heard going around about you: you’ve never had a boyfriend. his friends laugh about it, busting their sides over something so insignificant and so not their business. jaemin doesn’t find any amusement in it; if anything, he thinks it’s kind of cute, if it’s even true. the boys take notice of his silence and when seungmin casts a scheming glance around the table, jaemin feels a chill run through him.

“jaemin,” the younger boy drawls. “dare ya to date ‘em.”

jaemin immediately shakes his head. “the fuck’s wrong with you? that’s fucked up. i’m not doing that for a stupid ass dare.”

seungmin shrugs and leans back in his seat, head tilted back as he takes a drink out of his natty light. a laugh ripples across the group of boys and jaemin has to hold himself back from rolling his eyes; he’s not cruel and he’s not doing that to you, not when you’ve been nothing but sweet to him in the few conversations you’ve had. but then jeongin, the worst culprit of provoking everyone and instigating shit, says it’s because jaemin is too goody-too-shoes, too lame to do something and against his better judgment, jaemin jumps in, heat creeping under his skin, scorching him from the inside out.

“fine, i’ll do it, but i’m expecting compensation for any date,” he says hotly. “you’re paying for it all since it was your stupid ass idea.”

the group almost protests, but jaemin silences them with a deadly look. he reminds them a second time that they’re the ones who came up with the idea, he’s not paying for this out of his own pocket (at least not yet).

when he waltzes up to you at the next party, a seagram’s escape from his own personal stash in his hand for you, you’re immediately suspicious. but his smile is soft, his gaze impossibly softer, the whole of it disarming. he chats you up easily and by the end of the night, your number is secure in his phone, your text log pinned to the top of his messages, and a potential plan to go get breakfast at a hole-in-the-wall diner next week. he smiles when you turn back and wave to him as you’re leaving.

this whole thing is supposed to be a bet, but he’s always wanted to get to know you better, so if he can get his stupid ass friends to bankroll all the dates he plans to take you on, he figures it’ll be killing two birds with one stone.

zhong chenle is the boy your friend has a crush on. he’s in your general psychology class; he sits a couple of rows behind you in the lecture hall, always has the best discussion board posts, always sets the high score for every test, quiz, and assignment. he’s also involved in the choir on campus and he lives in the same dorm building that you and your friend do.

you see him on campus in passing all the time, frequenting the dining hall and the library on the same schedules. your friend, iseul, is almost always with you during these instances too and she starts crushing… hard. you can’t say you blame her: he’s pretty and intelligent and kind of mysterious. you’ve heard whispers of him being the campus crush, which doesn’t surprise you in the slightest.

one friday night, a little bit gone off a blue razzberry beatbox, iseul pleads to you on your dorm room floor, kneeled on the hard linoleum floor and hands pressed together, the whole nine yards. she wants you to help her get with chenle, she really likes him but because she doesn’t have a way of meeting him naturally, you’re her next best bet. she makes you a million promises: she’ll do your laundry for a month, she’ll buy the groceries for the room, she’ll buy your coffee at the campus cafe for the next year, whatever it takes.

she’s near tears when you finally cave in and help her; she hasn’t spoken a single word to that boy, but she’s already so whipped and you’re not sure if you’re ready to hear her whine if you say no. she’s very lucky that you have a group project for your gen psych class and chenle is in your cohort. you don’t have a single clue about how you’re going to play cupid for her, but you suppose you’ll figure it out as you go.

when you, chenle, and the other two members of your group meet for the first time, you’re ready to help iseul bag the man of her dreams. but the more your group meets, the more time you spend sitting next to chenle, his body heat tangible and his cologne invading your senses, the more you exchange ideas and small talk, the more you realize that you like him quite a bit, more than you should.

and then you start hanging out with him outside of the project too, getting coffee or sharing a table at the library or eating dinner on the nights that iseul doesn’t join you for a meal. he laughs at your jokes, asks questions, talks to you about things other than academics. the more you spend your time with him, the harder it gets to want to matchmake him with iseul.

but you made her a promise and you’d be a bad friend to break that promise.

park jisung is your first love, even if he doesn’t know it. he’s a million of your favorite romance tropes rolled into one: childhood best friend, boy next door, campus crush. everything about him is so sweet and kind and cute, it’s next to impossible to not fall in love with him, not when he has everything in the world going for him.

you grow up together, your moms best friends since high school, so you’ve been raised as best friends since birth. you’ve had joint birthdays, matching gifts, a shared cake, all of it. all of your big duo achievements have been celebrated together and you’ve been each other’s dates to every high school dance, including your senior prom. it’s just always been you and jisung, always intertwined, forever written in the stars.

you both decide to go to the same college, manage to get assigned to the same dorm building and into the same gen ed classes because neither of you can imagine going through university without the other. it’s not that you’re codependent (at least not unhealthily so), but he’s your self-proclaimed life partner. you don’t have to follow the same path, just ones that are parallel to each other.

but when you start university, he quickly becomes the heartthrob of your dormitory and then the entire campus. jisung, as he always has been, is oblivious to the extra attention he gets from your classmates, the glances they shoot him in the dining hall, their less than innocent invitations to hang out in their dorm rooms. despite your decades-long friendship, you’ve never really talked about crushes or love or anything of the sort and he’s never given any indication that he likes you romantically, so there’s no reason for you to feel that sharp, ugly pang of jealousy in your gut when another classmate leans a little too close towards him to ask a question while you’re standing in line at the dining hall, waiting to swipe your meal cards.

but you do. it is sharp and painful and terrifying the way you feel so viscerally upset when your peers, girls and guys alike, try to make passes at jisung. you always knew you felt differently about your childhood friend, the one you’ve known since literal diapers, but not to this extent. and you realize one night while you’re drinking contraband alcohol in your dorm room that your feelings stem from a place in your heart you can trace all the way back to eighth grade when he asked you to be his date to the valentine’s day dance when the person you asked rejected you very publicly.

park jisung is not yours, not officially, but your heart has belonged to him for years and you’re too deep in to take it back. maybe if he was just a little less oblivious or you a little less anxious to put your friendship on the line for it.

#kvanity #klabels #nct dream x reader #nct dream fluff #nct x reader #nct fluff #kpop fluff #mark lee x reader #renjun x reader #mark x reader #jeno x reader #haechan x reader #jaemin x reader #chenle x reader #jisung x reader #park jisung x reader #writing.fic #nct dream.fic

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kissmetae · 2 years

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Strangers to lovers

❧ Jungkook x Reader

❧ AU: You’re a regular at the gym and today you decided to workout late. You thought you were alone, but it turned out there was one other person at the gym and you so happened to be his gym crush...

|| SMUT || 3.2k || masterlist in bio ||

❧ Rating: MATURE || sexual content, unprotected sex, public sex || Warnings

❧ Smut features: Semi-public (gym), Oral (giving/receiving), fingering, Leading!Jungkook (Top/Power-Bottom), unprotected, descriptive, creampie, greedy, hickeys, on the gym bench, tongue, grunting and groaning, roleplaying

❧ Disclaimer: This is fiction. Actions and events in these stories are often exaggerated and to a certain degree unrealistic. Please have this in consideration when reading fiction, especially if it includes sexual content.

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The clinking sound of weights along with the to-nobody's-taste music was what you'd usually hear while at the gym. People with their headphones on, emersed in what they came to do or aimlessly wandering around like a lost ghost without a plan staring at the clock every other minute. You were a regular at this gym and had a set weekly plan of what muscles to work on and which exercises to do. Today... or tonight rather, was a bit out of your ordinary plan.

You swiped your membership card at the doors, a green light came on and the door made a click sound. During the unstaffed hours you expected it to be a lot calmer but not empty...

The gym almost had an eerie feeling to it when it was like this. The large open floor plan space with big windows usually felt fresh and motivating. But the windows only accommodated the darkness of the late night and the open space almost gave a sense of kenophobia. Well... along to the beat of "call on me" by Eric Prydz the most cliche gym anthem ever. Completely ruining the horror movie set vibe.

You put on your own headphones and hit play on your gym playlist as you headed towards the cross-trainer to warm up.

Today was your glute day and you'd usually workout in the morning before work but today you'd swapped shifts with your co-worker and decided to sleep in and head to the gym late for a change.

However, when you plopped your phone and water bottle into the oversized cupholders of the machine, you noticed you weren't the only person here.

The gym had an L-shaped layout, thus you hadn't seen the familiar dark haired man by the weights rack.

You let out a sigh as you got onto the machine. What was worse? An overcrowded gym or being alone with 1 other person there pretending to not notice each other? What do you even do? You can't just casually say hi to them it'd be weird, wouldn't it? Well in this case it would be very weird.

Because you knew him.

Well, not knew-knew. You had no idea what his name was, but you'd seen him here numerous times before so clearly he was a regular like you.

He was built like a regular too...

His long black hair was brushed back and held secure by a headband, earbuds in his ear, curvy arms and a well-defined back.

He grabbed two free weights, wearing black lifting gloves and sat down on one of the benches. He was wearing a black tank top and shorts, making his quads visibly flex when he sat down.

In this very moment he looked up and spotted you. His brow, pierced, raised in surprise and you quickly looked away. Wow the out-of-order pulse reader on this thing sure was interesting to look at... 10:00. Your warmup was done... maybe you should just leave. It felt so awkward being just the two of you here... and the squat rack was right next to him...

You stepped off the cross-trainer and almost tripped back and fell when he suddenly stood behind you.

"Jesus ch-" You let out and clutched your bottle to your chest. Once you moved your headphone back from one ear he parted his lips to speak... the lower lip was also pierced.

"Sorry... I just wanted to ask if you could spot me... if you have time. You can say no, I just thought... since you're here. Not that I was waiting for you I just mean you as in another person..." He stuttered.

To be honest, you hadn't expected him to be shy or soft for that matter. His exterior had a very contrasting vibe... especially with the fully tattooed sleeve on his arm.

Maybe it was too soon to tell from a single sentence, but you felt a bit "mistaken" for dubbing him as a "gym-bro" aka avoid-at-all-costs-bro merely for hearing him grunt too loud that one time...

"Oh, sure. I could need a spotter too actually, I was heading to the squat rack." (Fuck why did I say that. Emergency swap to core-day cancelled... no backing out now.)

He smiled. Calling it a cute one would be an understatement.

"Nice! I'll move my bench over and we could alternate sets with rests." He said and removed his other earpiece.

Heading back, he dragged the bench over towards the squat rack and grabbed a bar for you.

You gathered your weight stacks and threaded them onto the bar and secured them. You never had anyone spot you while squatting before... but for some reason you felt the need to justify yourself agreeing to help him. Why was this so awkward? Were you the only one who felt this way?

"Wanna go first?" He asked, adjusting the strap on his glove.

"Sure. What's your name by the way?"

"Jungkook."

You positioned yourself by the rack, kneeling slightly to get the bar up from its rest and began your set.

"What's yours?" Jungkook asked, standing behind you with his hands ready to catch the bar.

You stood back up, told him your name and squatted back down again.

When your thighs began to tremble, you pushed through the last rep and let out a deep exhale. Jungkook grabbed the bar and helped you hook it back in the rest.

Well, that wasn't so bad...

You turned around and Jungkook sat on the bench, leaning down to pick up the weights. You walked around the bench and stood behind him.

"I'll do some shoulder presses, my right arm tends to give up on form so feel free to poke me back in place." He said, sounding eager.

He began his rep, pushing the weights up over his head and lowering them to a 90-degree angle, and repeated. You held your hands at the sides of his triceps, without touching. When his form gave in to the end of his rep you adjusted him slightly.

Two more and he let out a deep groan, dropping the weights down to the floor.

"Give me a minute" he panted, hands gripping the edge of the bench.

The veins at his forearms were prominent.

Maybe he was lifting a bit too heavy, but you felt like it wasn't your place to tell him.

But it turned out you didn't need to. Jungkook got up and grabbed a set of lighter weights from the rack, hiding a flustered smile.

"Ah, my plan failed." He admitted followed by a chuckle.

"What plan?"

Jungkook leaned down and grabbed the heavier weights to put them back on the rack.

"To impress you with heavy weights."

"You'll have to try harder. I couldn't care less what somebody lifts." You said playfully.

"A part of me knew you wouldn't care but... I couldn't stop myself. It's like a peacock showing off its feathers when his crush walks by." He said and let out a little laugh. "Ready for your next?" Jungkook asked and rested his arms on the bar.

"Why would you want to impress me? You don't know me."

He looked down shyly at his sneakers.

"Not completely true, I've seen you around a lot. You're kind of my gym crush... so I was really glad when I saw you walk in because I've had a shit day today."

You were his gym crush?!

You swallowed, trying to, but failing to stop yourself from blushing.

"Is that why you're here so late today?"

Jungkook nodded. "Needed to let it out somehow..."

"Understandable."

Jungkook moved aside and you took your spot in the squat rack again.

You tried to avoid his gaze in the mirror so you wouldn't blush even more and focused your eyes on the corner where the floor met the wall. Suddenly you felt a hand gently press to your back at the sweaty skin between your leggings and sports bra.

"Careful with your back." Jungkook said and you tensed your core, straightening your back more. He was distracting... it was harder to focus on your form after hearing you were his gym crush... who was currently squatting in front of him. Who knew what thoughts were swirling around his head right now...?

He was attractive, you had to admit it... maybe you supressed your own attraction to him with your gym-bro label... but groans and grunts were unbearable... coming from him.

It was Jungkook's turn again, and you didn't know if you were imagining things, but his groans just kept getting louder. He was biting his lip towards the end of his set and let out a deep grunt pushing through the last. One half of you wanted to grab the dumbbell from his hand and throw it to his gut and tell him to shut up and the other wanted to straddle him on the bench and make him groan even louder.

"Are you always this loud, Jungkook?" You blurted out, followed by an awkward laugh.

"No." Short and simple. "Do you always do glutes?"

"No."

"My bad, I thought so since you have such a nice ass."

The dumbbell in the gut sounded a lot more tempting now.

"I had a rep left but I'm afraid I'll trigger you to grunt even more now."

Jungkook leaned back on his palms and let out a laugh.

"Well, it's just you and me here. Technically we can do whatever we want and be as loud as we want too." His tone was suggestive. "What’s next after your squats?" He asked.

"It was hip thrusts, but I won't be doing them." You said, placing your hands on his shoulders, feeling his muscles tense under your touch.

"Why not?" He asked.

"You will." You smirked.

Jungkook leaned his head back and looked up at you. “But I’m doing upper body today.” He teased. You walked around the bench to stand in front of him and leaned forward, placing your hands on his strong thighs. He swallowed. The smirk was suddenly gone, and he was the one blushing now.

He was flustered but he tried to keep it together… he couldn’t deny how much he wanted you anymore. Your gaze was fixed on his hard on. He took a hold of your wrist and moved your left hand to touch him. You added some pressure, rubbing him firmly through his shorts. Jungkook’s breathing picked up a heavier rhythm and his hands tightened their grip on the bench edge.

His gaze looked up towards the entrance quickly, making sure nobody was coming in and he suddenly stood. Regardless of strength you couldn’t keep him pinned down even if you tried. He was a lot stronger than you. His arms wrapped around you, and he picked you up with ease.

“We’re going to get banned if we get caught.”

“I don’t care.” He said and laid you down on the bench.

“I don’t either.” You confessed, slipping out a giggle.

You were both too consumed by the sexual tension and excitement to stop now. Jungkook grabbed your ankle, holding it up as he slipped off your sneakers and repeated with the other. He reached towards your waist and slipped his fingers inside the hem of your tight leggings, pulling them down your legs and dropping them on top of your sneakers.

His hand pressed firmly against your crotch, adding pressure against your clit and immediately putting your nerves on high alert. His fingers pushed between your lower lips rubbing along your slit, soaking the fabric with your wetness. He briefly threw a glance back up and returned with a smirk wider than before. His confidence was growing.

He grabbed the sides of your panties and slipped them down and off your legs. A tight grip of his still gloved hands at your ankles and he pulled you closer towards him before kneeling down.

Your thighs were spread, toes barely touching the floor and his lips pressed up against your clit, causing your toes to curl. His tongue was greedy, hands strong against your thighs, stopping you from squeezing him between them. His tongue flicked up over your clit before he latched on with his lips again, sucking firmly and pressing a greedy kiss almost like a claim.

His left hand abandoned your thigh, coming to part your lips to give him more room to taste and explore. Long greedy licks… You arched your back, letting out a whimper at the overwhelming pleasure and you just barely heard him whisper “Yes, baby.” Against you.

His fingers slipped in, gently but impatiently. Two.

They curled, caressing against the sweet, sweet spot within as his tongue greedily licked up the result of his actions. He could tell you were too tight for him still and scissored his fingers, stretching you and making you moan out his name in a plead.

Maybe he’d have to solve that differently… he couldn’t handle himself much longer.

Jungkook slipped his fingers out carefully and stood back up. His knees were red.

You wouldn’t let him get what he wanted just yet. You thought and pushed yourself up to sit. His hand had already slipped in below the hem of his shorts and his gaze was darkened. The intimidating exterior was back… but it didn’t feel threatening anymore. It was tempting.

You pulled him closer by the hips, pushing his shorts and underwear down his muscly thighs and he stepped out of them with his hand firmly wrapped around his dick, stroking himself.

His gaze was suggestive but unsure. You could tell he was wishing for what you were about to do, but he unsure how to insinuate it without going against your comfort…

You replaced his hand with your own, leaned forwards and pressed the tip of his dick towards your lip, looking up first to see his rapidly moving chest before slipping your lips down over his tip and taking the head fully. He was sensitive. You began to suck, and he let out a deep sigh mixed with a moan of relief. His hand rested against your head but without trying to control, letting you be in charge of your own moves.

Your hand wasn’t moving, it was more so squeezing and caressing the base of his thickness while your mouth made him groan. He was veiny.

You allowed him to slip out and your hand took over for your mouth, rubbing and squeezing his tip as your tongue traced the veins.

Jungkook’s hands suddenly pressed against your shoulders to stop you. He was on the verge.

“Don’t make me cum yet.” He said, voice shaky.

You looked up at him, licking your lips and he smirked. His hand pinched your chin, aiming your face up towards him and he leaned down.

His tongue slipped between your lips, kissing you with hunger and greed as he slowly guided you back down, getting on top of you. He hooked your thighs over his hip, lifting your hips up from the bench slightly to meet his height. You winced as his dick brushed up against your inner thigh. Your hand grabbed the headband, pulling it off and throwing it somewhere behind him. You tangled your fingers in his damp hair to keep him in the kiss.

Jungkook reached between you quickly to position himself, spreading your wet lower lips with his aching tip. His hand returned to your hip, and he pushed in. He pushed in with the intention to get in all the way from the start, but you were tight, and he was so big… But he managed anyway. The stretching feeling was mind-blowing, and you both moaned against the kiss as he slowly stretched you deeper and deeper. You couldn’t stay in the kiss, letting out another whimper from the pleasure. He was shaky.

His hand slipped into your hair and his lips pressed against the side of your throat. He kept still briefly, allowing you to adjust and relax around him. Your arms were wrapped around him, hands slipped up under his tank top, pressing against his flexed back.

“You ok, baby?” He whispered, voice husky.

You nodded. He pulled back slightly and thrusted back in, picking up a deep slow pace with his hips.

But it quickly picked up to deep and fast as the greed took over. His hips were pounding against yours, almost as if he was in a rush. He let out a frustrated groan and slipped his hand out of your hair. His arm instead wrapped around your waist, and he picked you up, the other arm under your butt. Jungkook stood up and turned around with you and sat back down on the bench, lying down on it. “It’s easier like this.” He said, panting.

His hands were firmly pressing you down against him and he picked up his thrusts again, with you on top of him. Your face was above his, dark eyes meeting yours with gritted teeth. He looked beyond sexy like this… it was turning you on even more. He grunted, fingertips digging into your skin and his head leaning back.

You licked up the side of his throat and sucked what would become a deep purple hickey…

“You’re leaking all over me.” Jungkook said between breaths.

“Of course I am, I’m being fucked by the hottest guy in this gym.”

He couldn’t hold back the flustered chuckle.

His hand gripped your ass tighter. “Maybe we should pretend like we don’t know each other more often.”

“Shut up.” You ordered and failed to supress a moan.

“There she is.” He grinned. This Jungkook was torture, he knew exactly what that phrase did to you.

He was sweaty, hair was clinging to his forehead, and he was a moaning mess beneath you. His endurance was impressive, but he was coming to an end, both by stamina and his own release.

You were hanging by a thread, his grip was so firm and tight, he was thrusting so deep and hard. It was overwhelming to a point that made you feel high. All your senses were alive at once, the sight of him, the feel of him, the sound and smell…. It was unbearable.

“I know this expression too well to pretend like I don’t.” He teased, but he was right. Your body felt so tense and overwhelmed, toes curling, back unable to arch from his tight hold. A final hard deep thrust was enough to break you, and him. He pushed deeply, releasing in you with a growling grunt. Your muscles released in an explosion of ecstasy, tightly pulsing around him with a loud sharp whimper.

Out of breath, you gazed into each other eyes and he leaned up to kiss you tenderly, hand against your cheek and you momentarily forgot you were at the gym.

Once you regained some more control of your body, you carefully stood up, Jungkook slipping out. You reached for Jungkook’s clothes, handing them to him as he sat up and picked up your own.

“Shall we pick up some takeout on our way home, Baby?” Jungkook asked. “I’m kind of hungry after my workout.” He chuckled, slipping his shorts back on.

“That sounds amazing… should we pretend not to know each other again and hook up in the bathroom?” You said playfully.

“Nah… I want my girlfriend back now.” He pouted cutely and put his arm around your shoulders, pulling you close to him as you walked towards the exit.

#Jungkook smut #bts smut #jungkook #bts #jungkook x reader #networkbangtan #bts x reader #smut #jungkook oneshot #bts fanfic #jungkook fanfic #jeon jungkook #jjk smut #jungkook x you #bangtan #kook

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athina-blaine · 2 months

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His own breath ragged, Ambrosius leaned in again, just close enough for his lips to graze against Ballister's.

“Let me take care of you.”

Ballister loses track of the time and gets caught in the rain. Ambrosius rises to the occasion.

Rating: Explicit Relationships: Ballister Blackheart | Ballister Boldheart/Ambrosius Goldenloin Chapters: 1/1 Chapter Word Count: ~5k Additional Tags: Domestic Fluff, Light Angst, Pre-Canon, Service Top Ambrosius, Ballister Acts Like a Sad Wet Cat, Explicit Sexual Content

Inspired by @sefarlen's art here (NSFW), and a very happy Valentine's Day to you as well 😉😉😉 haha what do you mean it's apri

Closing the door behind him with a soft click, Ambrosius slipped off his running shoes before stepping inside the apartment. His heart still raced with exertion as he pulled down the hood of his rain-slicked jacket, sweat cooling on the back of his neck and face. The rain had brought down the temperature to a crisp, sublime briskness, and it had been perfect for his evening run (even if his hair could do without the humidity).

Hanging his jacket on the coat rack, chin bobbing to the beat of his music, his eyes passed over the row of shoes, lingering on the leftmost shelf. He paused. The black boots that usually occupied the space were still absent, the same as they were when Ambrosius had first gotten home.

It wasn’t often Ambrosius beat Ballister back at the end of the day, with Ballister usually having long since buried himself in his academy reports. Even rarer for Ambrosius to finish his run and still see that shelf empty. Perhaps he’d gotten carried away with his research project in the archives. Still, why not give Ambrosius a heads-up?

Ambrosius pushed down his growing anxiety. It’s not as if Ballister has never been this late coming home before, especially with their development reports due soon. Ambrosius would just need to call, that was all. Nothing to worry about.

But first, Ambrosius desperately needed a drink. Bending down to open the refrigerator, he retrieved his water bottle and took a slow sip, eyes surveying the inside of the fridge. His fingers tapped to the beat of his music against the fridge door. They haven’t already eaten through all of those strawberries, have they …?

Through his earbuds, he heard a muffled thud behind him. He glanced over just in time to see Ballister shuffle into the main room, his gait sluggish as he dragged his hand down his face. He didn’t seem to notice Ambrosius as he let out a tired sigh, running his hand through his hair.

Ambrosius straightened, letting the fridge door close, and Ballister’s eyes snapped upwards. When their gazes met, Ballister faltered. For a fleeting moment, Ambrosius could see him attempt to mask the fatigue in his eyes, but Ambrosius’ concern must have been obvious as he quickly gave up the charade. He raised a hand, a weary smile tugging his lips. “Sorry I didn’t call.”

[Continue on AO3]

#nimona #goldenheart #was writing this and mused a lot as to how cooking would manifest in this household #i think ballister would be the more technically competent cook #but it isn't something he's particularly passionate about beyond keeping himself fed #doesn't see the point in straying from the recipe #meanwhile ambs would be awful #just the worst #but he's a very eager student and finds he actually has a taste for it #so he goes off book and tries unusual things and bal just doesn't get it lol

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yesandpeeps · 8 months

Text

Birthday Kiss 🎂💋🦇

Rating: Teen.

Word count: 1146.

Pairing: Swiss/Aeon.

Summary: Aeon’s curiosity for his new life on the surface leaves him excited for any type of celebration. He overhears it’s a certain ghouls birthday, and can’t help himself. Kissing and petting.

Read below or on AO3.

New summons often had difficulty adjusting to the surface’s day and night cycle. It’s a struggle to learn how to initially regulate their energy. New ghouls tend to be keen on long naps, that is, if they even wake up in the morning.

Aeon was no different, granted slack due to his “new summon” status. Snoozing long after the sun had risen above his window. As long as he gets his chores done and gets to practice on time, Papa doesn’t seem to mind. The crisp air of autumn doesn’t help persuade him out of his warm bed, but the ache of an empty stomach sure does.

Eyes barely open, Aeon dresses himself and exits his room, guided towards the common area by smell alone. Whatever had been prepared for their midday meal was already put away, cold and stiffened in the fridge. It’ll do. Had the bright, cold light not clicked on upon opening the door, he would’ve never noticed the white cardboard box that nearly took up a full shelf. Aeon blinked at it for a moment, noticing a plastic viewing slot on the top of the box. Too curious for his own good, he slid the box halfway off the shelf and tilted it, peering in on a white sheet of. Something. Fancy curling letters decorated the surface. After a couple more dumb blinks, Aeon’s finally able to register what he’s seeing.

A sheet cake, elegantly piped with the words, “Happy Birthday Swiss!” Aeon’s jaw might as well have hit the floor. He took a glance around the room, empty except for him, and oh, so carefully slid the cake back onto its shelf. Why had nobody told him? He grabbed another boxed container, a portion of left overs saved for him, and closed the fridge door. He mustn’t waste any time, barely grabbing a utensil to scarf down his first meal of the day. The dish was cleared in what felt like seconds. Aeon had something more important to focus on: finding Swiss.

Thankfully, the rotation of chores was listed on a white board in the common area. Swiss was stationed on laundry duty, so he’d better check there first. Aeon bounded off down the corridor, hard to believe he was out cold barely ten minutes prior.

A little out of breath and sluggish from his hurried meal, Aeon pushes the door open to the laundry room as quietly as he can manage. He pokes his head in, and just like he’d hoped, there was his target with his back to him. Unaware. Alone. Perfect.

Swiss continued the steady pattern of folding towels out in front of himself, using his chin to assist, and tossing them into a basket. Mumbling and nodding along to whatever song was playing in his earbuds, blissfully ignorant to what lurked behind him. While Aeon stalked, the muscles shifting in Swiss’s back caught his attention, and he couldn’t help but admire his arms as he worked. The song must’ve gotten good, because Swiss began a little dance, shifting his weight back and forth between his feet and rolling his body. Aeon felt his cheeks grow warm.

Against better judgment, Aeon believed this was the perfect time to launch his attack. Holding his breath, he crept up behind his victim. He trembled in anticipation before launching his hands forward and grabbing Swiss’s sides, yanking him back against his body. The poor multi ghoul probably would’ve shot through the ceiling with how hard he jumped if he’d not been held down. Off balance and dazed, Swiss grabs at whoever’s arms were squeezing him and whips his head around. His breathless laugh sent a swoop through Aeon’s stomach. Swiss takes a step back to right himself again, letting his head roll back to rest against the quintessence ghouls shoulder.

“That’s a way to greet someone,” Swiss breathes, removing his ear buds.

“You didn’t tell me it was your birthday,” Aeon pouts, tucking his chin over Swiss’s shoulder.

Swiss turns his head, enough to brush his nose against Aeon’s hair. Talk right into his ear. “No?”

“No,” He chuffed, reveling in the way Swiss’s warm breath passed across his cheek. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Wasn’t on purpose, just never came up. Sorry bug,” Swiss shrugged, patting his hands over the limbs wrapped around his middle.

Reluctantly, Aeon let his arms fall to his sides, letting Swiss step out of his range to retrieve a towel that got dropped during the ambush. “So?”

“So what?” The multi ghoul tossed over his shoulder as he refolded the fabric.

Aeon rolled up onto the balls of his feet. “How old are you?” He prodded.

The beat of silence made him drop back onto flat feet, suddenly uncertain. Was that not an appropriate thing to ask?

“Well,” Swiss starts, “I’ve been topside since the reign was shifted to our Papa-“

“Not what I meant,” the other interrupts.

The taller ghoul hums for a moment before giving his answer. Aeon nods slowly before stepping back into Swiss’s space again, this time wearing a grin. Too innocent for the way he crowds Swiss back against the table.

“Well,” Aeon huffs, “I may not have known it was your birthday, but I do have a present for you. Maybe a bit of an apology, too.”

“Is that so?” Swiss tilts his head, unable to stop the smile that splits across his face.

“Mhmm,” hums the agreement. Finally, Aeon reaches to cup Swiss’s face in his hands, letting his fingers lightly scratch over the stubble on his cheeks. Before he can react, Aeon leans forward and places a quick peck to Swiss’s mouth, mostly kissing his teeth.

“Yeah?” Swiss barks a laugh, his head tilting the other way.

“One,” Aeon smiles.

“Just one? That’s it-“

The multi ghoul is cut off by another quick kiss.

“Two.”

Finally catching on, Swiss begins to melt into chuckles. He wraps his strong arms around Aeon, able to reciprocate the kisses now that he sees the game he’s started.

After the tenth kiss, Aeon’s not counting them out loud anymore. Maybe it’s because he doesn’t care, or maybe it’s because the kisses barely break enough for him to say anything. The kisses turn deeper, hotter, wetter. He’s letting his excitement wander, dropping a hand from Swiss’s face to pet at his chest. A shudder runs through him when he feels a wide palm slide up his back and rest on the crook of his neck, huddling Aeon closer. The quintessence ghoul indulges in Swiss’s form, allowing himself to trace the fat padded muscle going down his chest, his ribs, his stomach-

“Y’know,” Swiss mutters between soft licks and sharp fangs biting at his lips, “Plenty of other places could be getting this treatment, too.”

“Is that so?” Aeon chuffs, his fingers tracing the hem of the other's shirt.

“Mhmm,” hums the agreement.

#yap yap yap #ghost #fanfic #nameless ghoul #swiss ghoul #aeon ghoul #ayo first fic posted #i lied about waiting to post it sorry lol 🧎🧎#i wanted it to be spicier but i don’t have the energy for it right now #maybe i’ll add another smuttier part down the road #here’s this for now 🤲#happy birthday cheese ghoul #no beta we die lie nihil #does having the screen reader read it back to me count as a beta?#i don’t think so #if you see me making little grammar edits for the next couple days noooo you do not

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afterdarkprincess · 26 days

Text

am i allowed to cry?

Pairing: Sami/Jey Rating: Explicit Word Count: 1556 without ever touching his skin, how can I be guilty as sin?

Thank you so much to @motherknuckers for letting me run with your amazing idea - I hope I did it justice!!

tag squad: @feelschicken @elementaldoughnut12 @imabillyami @jeysbvck @harmshake @southerngirl41 (if anyone else would like to be added please let me know!)

AO3 Link

Tags: Fantasies, Angst, Masturbation, References to Blowjobs and Sex, Big Guilty Thoughts (full list on AO3)

---

The ceiling lights up, announcing the arrival of a text message on Sami’s phone where it sits on the bedside table.

It’s late. How late he’s not sure, and he doesn’t even know if it’s worth reaching over to find out. Kevin snores in the other bed, both irritating and comfortingly familiar. He’s been staring at the ceiling for a while, unable to turn off the thoughts that tumble around his mind.

He’d spent the last of his time with the Bloodline conflicted and hurt, at war with who he wanted to be and who the Tribal Chief wanted him to be. In some ways putting that chair through Roman’s back had been a relief, a way for him to finally escape from the cage he’d willingly put himself in, unaware of how it would change him.

But that didn’t mean that he didn’t have regrets. The relief he felt as the chair made contact with the Tribal Chief quickly soured when he saw the expression on Jey’s face. The way his face contorted as he screamed about trust and brotherhood. Jimmy and Solo had no hesitation, dealing with a traitor the way they’ve been trained, viciously attacking.

Taking blow after blow, he hadn’t known at the time what came from who, but later on he watched the footage back. Watched as Jey refused to join the fray, rolling out of the ring and walking away. He hadn’t intervened to stop what was happening, but he also hadn’t joined in. That wasn’t nothing.

He’s still not sure where he stands with Jey Uso.

The ceiling lights up again.

Who could possibly be texting him right now?

Juicy Uce 2:27am- [https://open.spotify.com/track/799….]

Juicy Uce 2:30am- thought you’d wanna see it

It’s a link to a new release from the artist that Sami has been obsessed with for a while, something he found out he’d had in common with the Samoan once he’d finally gotten past Jey’s mistrust and hatred.

He’s transported back to that gloomy morning in a gym in a hotel off the exit just outside of the middle of nowhere, their heads together with one wired earbud between them. (Jey insists the audio quality is better, Sami can’t tell a difference but he agrees all the same.)

Sami can smell the sweet shea smell of Jey’s shampoo mixed with his sweat, the butterflies he’s fighting against in his stomach at how close he is, the way his fingers can’t help but move to the beat of the song. In the weeks they’ve been on the road together he’s discovered that Jey Uso is never still, always moving, always at 110% no matter his mood.

He’s fond of Jey. Despite all the suspicion and hatred Jey’s spewed his way, Sami’s seen glimpses of who Jey really is. The way he loves his brothers and protects them from Roman and themselves, How vibrant he can be when he’s deep into a game of Mario Kart with Jimmy and Solo, the way he laughs when the blue shell he launched crashes into Sami’s character (Luigi).

Not to mention that Jey is just insanely attractive. The whole family is really, that’s clear to anyone with eyeballs, but Sami hasn’t been able to get Jey out of his head. The crop tops he wears certainly aren’t helping.

Sami doesn’t catch what Jey says lost in thought as he is, but Jey’s laughing and he can’t help but giggle along. A rare moment of peace.

Kevin makes a sound like a dying elephant and turns in his sleep. The ceiling stares back at Sami and it feels like judgement.

His former? current? best friend has made his feelings about the situation perfectly clear. Sami’s “obsession” with Jey Uso is misguided and useless in his eyes.

If only he knew.

The daydreams he gets lost in. The downright fantasies that he’s had about a man who at most thinks of him as a brother.

Well there were those looks…

His traitorous and hopeful mind. Shame floods his thoughts. He shouldn’t want this, shouldn’t want him like this. There’s no use in indulging himself when it’s never going to happen. Just like there’s no use in catching Jey in dark corners backstage and pleading with him to see reason and leave the bloodline.

And yet…

Sami’s unfortunately never been one to take no for an answer, never knows when to quit. Sometimes it leads to him getting his ass kicked, sometimes it leads to sleepless nights dreaming about soft bronze skin, imagining what Jey’s lips would taste like.

He feels his face heating up, his dick stirring in his shorts at those briefest of thoughts. This is becoming a problem, spilling over from his idle daydreams into his interactions with Jey, getting distracted at each touch and glance Jey sends his way, only fueling this foolish desire further.

How would it feel if Jey touched him in reverence instead of anger? Holding Sami’s face in those big hands, warm and steady before pulling him in for a kiss.

His chest pangs at these images in his mind, memories of things that haven’t even happened. How is it he can see it all so clearly? He rubs at his tired eyes, like maybe it will banish the ghost of Jey’s lips against his own.

It doesn’t work.

Jey’s there, kneeling on the bed in those tight boxers he wears to bed, miles of his stomach exposed to Sami’s view. He reaches out to touch, letting his fingers graze the soft skin, drinking in the sigh that Jey lets out.

“That all you’re tryin’ to do, Uce? Killin’ me…”

Sami’s dick is fully invested, aching and leaking onto the soft fabric of his shorts. His hand dips under the waistband, teasing himself at first.

Jey crowds into his space, seating himself on Sami’s lap with a sly grin, rocking his hips to brush against the growing erection in the ginger’s shorts.

Sami can’t help but groan at the delicious pressure, wrapping his hand around his length and giving it a few good strokes.

_Above him Jey moans, tossing his head back and shaking sweat out of his hair, and Sami can’t resist licking the exposed line of his neck, and he is lost, intoxicated and drowning. His senses are overloaded, Jey is everywhere and everything, the salty-sweet-clean taste of his skin, the smell of his expensive cologne, the hypnotizing swirling lines of ink that adorn his skin. His panting breath, hot against Sami’s face, combining with whispered curses into a beautiful melody.

Their bodies connected. Jey’s pretty pink lips stretched around Sami’s cock. Running his tongue along the planes of Jey’s body, tracing each tattoo, each intricate and wonderful part of him.

The back of his head knocks against the backboard, his hand working furiously on his dick, bringing him closer and closer to the edge. He bites his lip hard, trying his best to keep quiet.

Jey stretched out on a hotel bed in soft morning light. Laughing at him over breakfast. Back arched perfectly as Jey takes him into his body, tight, warm, home. The face he makes as he falls apart-

Sami groans, the visions around him disappearing as he coats his hand in warm sticky cum.

He sighs out a long exhale as he comes down from his orgasm, uncomfortably back in reality with Kevin snoring away on the other side of the room as his cum dries against his skin.

Guilt crashes over him like waves, making his stomach turn. Why does he keep doing this to himself?

He gingerly pries himself up out of the bed, moving slowly to not make any unnecessary noise as he makes his way to the bathroom. His and Kevin’s friendship is still rocky, and waking the man up in the middle of the night moaning the name of their opponent certainly isn’t going to win him any brownie points.

Sami cleans himself up quickly and efficiently before staring into his reflection in the mirror. The cheap florescent light only exaggerates the dark bags under his eyes and the bruise near his hairline, a harsh reminder of what really happened the last time Jey Uso put his hands on him.

But the superkicks and blows don’t match up to the Jey he knows, the man who showed him his true colors, the Jey that haunts his mind in stunning detail.

His eyes sting with unshed tears. After all what right does he have to cry? At the end of the day, he’s only torturing himself with these thoughts.

What’s he going to do? Take Jey up on their unspoken vows, say fuck it to everyone and everything and run off and live happily ever after? It’s not realistic. That’s not how real life works.

Sami splashes his face with cold water, wiping away all the evidence of his sins before making his way back to bed.

He burrows under the comforter and tries to get comfy, letting his breath match the pace of Kevin’s deep snores to try and get himself to relax. It’s definitely past late at this point and he should really be asleep.

He stares up, blinking his aching and tired eyes.

After a moment, the ceiling lights up with a notification from his phone.

---

Hope you enjoyed!!!

#samijey #jey uso #sami zayn #jami #jey uso x sami zayn #wwe fanfiction #my writing #all my other WIPs are standing behind me aren't they?#photo not mine

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dispatchvampire · 4 months

Text

Accidentally In Love (Chapter 1)

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Bucky Barnes x FemaleOC

Warnings: Potentially lethal levels of fluffiness right now, potential for smut later. A little blood, canon levels of violence potentially. Plus size female OC, body descriptions.

Rating: PG-13 (right now for language, but look for this to change)

WC: 2200-ish.

Summary:

Echo's living a normal life in NYC, a 911 dispatcher, the most excitement she gets is from the calls she takes. And then love comes crashing in one day when she's riding her bike through Central Park.

Steve and Bucky weren't looking for anything on their daily run around the park besides fresh air and exercise. The streak of purple eye candy on a bike that lapped them pretty regularly was a nice addition but not mandatory, at least until some impromptu roughhousing results in some civilian casualties in the form of the most beautiful woman either of them had seen in a long, long time.

A/N: AU, Post CACW, Bucky’s Chill and we have always lived in the Tower. Just call this a throwback to the found family, everyone lives in Stark Tower fics.

This is supposed to be a super-fluffy love story. Still undecided if I'm gonna keep this one going but posting now for giggles and grins. It's got some CSI:NY characters crossing over because why not.

I'm just messing about and playing in my WIPs folder. Not Beta'd: we die like men! (honestly, I tried but if you catch something I missed, let me know)

Chapter 1

Five miles at a time. Everything in the early morning hours was measured five miles at a time for Echo Nerys and her trusty mountain bike. From 6:30 to 8AM give or take, she was a glittery purple streak on a circuit through Central Park from end to end that she’d measured precisely both for distance and scenic value. The moment she left her job at NYPD Central Dispatch at 6AM, she was changed and on the bike, ready to go. She even had an appropriately timed playlist on Spotify.

She’d started as early in the spring as the weather allowed for, in her long compression pants and jacket, getting her face chapped as she and her body remembered what it felt like to be on two wheels and free. A figure in all black in the early hours of the morning fast enough to pedal past the majority of the criminal element and yet still taking hits off her asthma bong when she paused to get drinks from her backpack.

Now, though, with the summer slowly stretching out down the coast, she’d tied up her puff pigtails and ditched her all black for the wildly purple tie-dyed bike shorts, sports bra, and tank top, all matching, because why not and her favorite pair of sunglasses that made her look like a trained killer. Even her earbuds were purple. There were some who said she didn’t really have the body for the tightly clinging gear, but fuck those people, she was going to be comfortable and safe while she worked out and they didn’t have to look if it offended them. Her body, not-toned stomach, thick thighs and semi-floppy arms, was her own and had been through many of its own wars, and she could wear what made her happy.

She’d picked up riding the previous summer and had taken it inside for the duration of the winter, riding in the basement gym of 1PP, but she didn’t have a whole lot to show for it physically other than shaplier calves and slightly thinner thighs. She wasn’t in it for the way she looked, but how good it felt to finally move after being sick and stuck with her joint pain for so long. Now that her meds were mostly managed, she was hell on two wheels, six days a week if she could manage, five if she wanted to go easy on it, and it felt amazing.

On her pace, she saw herself coming up on a group of joggers just cresting the hill, the tallest among them, a hottie from the Homicide Squad, Donnie Flack. All black-haired, blue-eyed Irish, he was every dispatcher’s crush and untouchable as a museum piece because of his wife in the Coroner’s Office. No one wanted to test a forensic scientist’s ability to exact revenge. It was just poor planning. And he was such a sweetheart, it was impossible not to be his friend.

“On ya left!” she hollered out as she approached the group, powering up the hill despite the way her knees screamed and her thighs burned. It was the principle of the thing, really, as she stood on her pedals and waved as she sailed past them with a jaunty grin. Now that she’d caught up to them, she saw it was a couple other guys from Homicide and one of the guys from down in Trace Evidence.

“Lookin’ good, E!” Danny Messer, Flack’s whip-thin, mouthy bestie from Crime Scene Investigations, hollered back with a huge grin and a wave as Donnie stuck his fingers in his mouth and wolf-whistled. Messer was good people, and his wife was a doll. Echo lived in their building a couple floors down and had babysat their kids more than a couple times.

Once she was out of sight, she concentrated on her speed according to the handlebar speedometer and focused on her Beastie Boys as she took the path around the edge of the Jackie O Reservoir. It was so beautiful, with duck families out in force, moms with their collections of babies trailing behind. The water made the air feel a bit cooler as the wind rushed over her skin as she progressed toward the Butterfly Garden.

Next up on her list of gorgeous sights was the two guys in front of her that she’d dubbed Hotness 1 and Hotness 2. She passed them a few times on her rides, most mornings. Hotness 1 was tall like Donnie, but broader, with muscles upon muscles. He looked like an escapee from the Metropolitan Museum of Art, if Galatea had been 6’3” and blonde with cornflower blue eyes and an ass that would have reduced Michaelangelo to abject weeping.

Hotness 2 wasn’t any easier on the libido, with his blue-grey peepers and long dark hair he kept in a bun at his neck to go with his panty-melting smile and muscles. His bangs broke free of their confinement framing his face as they drifted over his model-perfect cheekbones and brushed against his sharp jawline. Not that she’d been ogling. Much.

Alone, they were the kind of flawless that caused traffic jams. Both of them together was an obscenity charge waiting to happen in their running shorts and sinfully well-fitting t-shirts, and more than one jogger—both male and female—had pulled up lame, run into a tree, or tripped over their own feet watching them go by.

“On ya left!” she called as she approached them, smiling as they waved when she flew by. If she happened to be standing on the pedals and sticking her ass out a bit more than was strictly necessary, well, could anyone blame her? Really? Besides, their smiles and waves of acknowledgement were totally worth it.

Just past The Loch was the Glen Span Arch, which always felt like a fairy garden to Echo. A stone bridge over the asphalt path with the stream running next to it and abundant trees, it was easy to imagine falling into a rabbit hole like Alice diving into Wonderland and never coming back. With the sun dappling through the leaves, it was here she felt like she was the only person in the world and life was perfect.

At least it was, until a grizzly bear in a blue shirt and black shorts descended into her path from down the hill. Echo hit the brakes so hard the back tire came up off the path and ditched out on the bike to keep from hitting him. She went one way and flung the bike the other, doing her best to guard her face and head from what would likely be a hard hit.

“Fuckshit!”

It was over in a second, she was in the creek, soaked to the bone on some very hard and unforgiving rocks that were currently poking into her ribs and hip, with no idea where her bike was. Or her sunglasses. Or phone. Taking inventory from toes upward, she was happy to report that for the most part, she’d likely sustained bruises but otherwise, she’d live. At least, until she tried to push herself up and her hand slipped on the wet rocks, sending her face first into the flowing water.

“Ah Christ! Hold on!” a deep, unfamiliar male voice hissed as he hooked his hands under her arms and bodily lifted her from the stream. Literally picked her up like a discarded toy, and like she weighed just as little, cradling her to his surprisingly firm and muscular chest. “I got you, sweetheart.” If she wasn’t so busy reeling from the hit and sputtering from the water coming out of her sinuses, his warm, rumbling voice as he brushed his lips over her temple would have definitely done the job. “I gotchu, darlin’. Are you okay?”

“I think so?” Echo took a second to compose herself after he set her on her feet with his arm protectively around her waist, scrubbing a hand down her face to deal with the water and unfortunately blood coming from sore spots on the bridge of her nose and her chin. When she looked up from her bloody hand, she wondered exactly how hard she’d been hit in the head, because in front of her was the concerned face of the most beautiful man she’d ever seen, looking her over like she was the most delicate bone china and he’d just yeeted it off the dining room table. He cupped her jaw in his hand, thumb gently brushing over her cheekbone, it was familiar and more than a little terrifying. Who the hell was this guy and why the hell was he touching her?

At her tiny, horrified squeak, his blue eyes widened, looking over his shoulder at his friend, Hotness 2, who had a cell phone pressed to his ear. “This is your fault, ya jerk. You plannin’ on helpin’ or what?”

The grey-eyed Adonis with the long dark hair held up a strangely metal-looking finger and spoke tersely into the phone before hanging up and coming over to them with a disgruntled look on his face for his friend. “Medics inbound. Settle down, Stevie.” The moment those steel-blue eyes turned on her, though, it could have been the sole cause of global warming because damn, if she didn’t melt a little on the spot from their tenderness. “I am so sorry, dollface. I didn’t see you. Are you okay?”

When he reached for her face to examine her bloody chin, she recoiled out of reflex, not fear, but unfortunately that was the moment that everything went to shit for the second time in ten minutes.

“NYPD! Step away from her!” Flack had his gun out and his badge around his neck, with Danny doing the same as he cautiously approached her with the rest of the heavily armed, sweaty contingent. Apparently Tall, Dark, and Yummy wasn’t moving fast enough because then Donnie barked, “Now, asshole! Move away from her or I’ll shoot.”

Both hands up and out to the side, 2 stepped back, eyes never leaving the gun trained on him. “You don’t wanna do this, pal.” He seemed amusingly calm, which made about as much sense to her as any of the rest of this, which was none at all. Blondie slowly straightened up further but kept an arm around her waist to hold her up.

The very fact that the man spoke seemed to incense her friend further. “You think I give a fuck about your opinion?”

“Hey, that’s not necessary…” The man standing with her gave her a reassuring squeeze before stepping over to stand with his friend.

With them occupied, Danny crept up next to her and moved her off to the side, surrounded by the rest of the guys from Homicide and Evidence. “She’s secure, Flack.”

“Good.” The detective nodded before turning his attention back to his quarry. “Now what the fuck were you doing feeling up an injured woman? You get off on that?”

Hotness 1 was all calmly defiant righteousness, standing shoulder to shoulder with his buddy. “We called a medic for her, they should be here in a couple minutes. We weren’t looking and didn’t see her on the path until it was too late.”

“This true, Echo?” Danny asked softly as he gently seated her on a nearby boulder and seemed to be checking her over for more injuries than just her face and her pride.

She went to nod but that rattled her head too much. “Yeah, Messer. I guess. It was just a regular crash. My fault as much as theirs, really. No real harm done.”

Frowning ferociously, Flack clearly was not content with her answer. “IDs, I want ‘em. Now.”

Blondie nodded slowly, alarmingly unperturbed about having a .40 caliber pistol pointed at his face. “Front right pocket. You wanna get it or should I?”

“Don’t get us shot, Stevie,” the longhaired man admonished his friend. From his long-suffering expression, this was apparently not the first time this type of thing had happened to either of them.

Rolling his eyes, Flack held out his hand. “Alright, smartass, wallets now.”

While the Homicide Hottie (as they called him in Dispatch) held court with her two new acquaintances, the ambulance rolled up and the medics began cleaning her wounds and checking her over as her worried neighbor stood guard over her. The last thing she wanted or needed was stitches and additional facial scars, but it looked like she might not get a choice in the matter.

“Messer! Get over here!” The note of concern in the detective’s voice had her looking over immediately, only to find all the guns put away and all their postures seemed substantially less aggressive, though no less agitated.

“Ma’am, could you hold still please?” The female medic with the gentle hands turned her face so she could clean the wounds better.

She didn’t know if it was the movement or what, but all of a sudden, she was going down, hard. The last thing she remembered was the ground rushing up to meet her. Again.

40 notes · View notes