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charliemwrites · 5 months

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Hahahaha good morning I had the wildest dream last night so I’m going to inflict it on all of you:

(I’m not done with keeper/kept. Just had to get this out)

Warnings for obsessive/possessive behavior, unhealthy and semi-one sided relationship, not-quite-dark John price.

John Price who decides it time he has a wife. Not retiring, god no! He’s not done yet. But his home is lonely when he’s on leave; he’s getting sentimental as he gets “older”. So, he wants a wife.

In theory, it sounds like just what he wants. A pretty warm thing snoozing in his bed when he gets home at ass o’clock in the morning. Someone to fret over new scars and fresh bandages. Someone to fuss at him for “taste testing” meals and wrinkle their nose at his cigars.

In practice, it’s not so easy. If it was, he reckons he would have been married by now. Good thing he’s already got the perfect candidate picked out.

You own a small business in his town. Not fabulously wealthy, but comfortable and independent. Something to keep you busy while he’s away but you make your own hours so your schedule it flexible to see him when he has infrequent leave.

And he adores you, knows that you’ve got more than a little crush on him. You smile and blush and reciprocate his interest, have only refrained from perusing anything because you didn’t think he was serious. But oh, he is.

One day you say something particularly charming and he says, “marry me.”

He’s been dropping these little jokes for a while now and you always start laughing because it’s just the kind of dramatic humor you love. Today you say something different than your usual overdramatic “oh but it could never work, captain.”

Today you say, “if only.”

How pathetic is it that you’re holding a candle for a man you’ve never even gotten a coffee with? Your family laments that your can’t spend your whole life married to your job. That they want grandchildren and nieces/nephews, someone to tell embarrassing stories about you to on holidays. You used to roll your eyes, but the prospect doesn’t feel so obligatory anymore.

Anytime you imagine it, it’s John Price there. You’ve stopped trying to imagine it for your heart’s sake.

Except a week later he’s sweeping into your shop and dropping a kiss on your cheek. An unusual greeting, but maybe he’s in a good mood. His hand lingers on the small of your back while you show him the new product that just came in.

You live above your shop and one day he shows up at the door with a bottle of wine, telling you he could use some good company. You’re shocked and confused but he looks like an amalgamation of every heartthrob in a hallmark or romcom you’ve ever “ironically” enjoyed. You invite him in.

By mid morning, he’s had you in every room of your apartment. Ate you out slow and greedy on the counters. Bent you over the dining table. Bounced you on his cock on your couch. Fingered his cum out of you in the bathtub. And absolutely ruined you twice over in your own bed.

He even changes the sheets before the two of you pass out that final time. And when you finally do wake up, he’s taken the initiative to brew coffee and make breakfast. It’s like a dream.

He fucks you against the door before he leaves.

When he’s deployed again, he calls you every night. You don’t expect it the first time, but it’s a sweet gesture to show things aren’t ruined. You’re not expecting the second time either and have to call him back when you climb out of the shower. The third time you wait for it, but still startle a bit when his name pops up on the screen.

He calls you every night he can while he’s away. You don’t know what to make of it.

Then one day you come back from errands to see movers in the yard. You think it’s some kind of mistake until John meets you at your car.

“Fire in the next building over,” he explains. “Their insurance will cover all the damages but it’s not safe to stay in your place. Mine’s just up the road. Figured you could stay until it’s sorted out.”

You want to be annoyed, and you almost are. But the overwhelm of nearly losing everything - only to have all the stress already handled and the important, nerve wracking decisions smoothed over? You just take the good luck.

To thank John for his generosity (and to fill the void of not running the shop) you bustle around his too-big house. Cook meals, keep things tidy. Keep John company when he manages to snag you from your gratitude-induced work.

He spends hours fucking you nice and slow, whispering things you barely remember in your ear. That you’re perfect for him, so sweet like a little wife, that he’d come home to you for the rest of his life. You kiss him quiet and rock back against him when it starts sounding too tempting.

Eventually, the repairs on your shop/apartment are done. It feels like a rude awakening to a pleasant dream. Instead of moving your things back, John moves more things in. When you tell him that you appreciate his kindness, but you should probably get back to your own space, he gets an odd look. Asks what you mean when this is your space.

And the trap springs closed.

“John,” you half-laugh, shaking your head. “We’re not actually married you know?”

“Not last I checked.”

The marriage certificate gets framed in the bedroom you’ve been sharing for a month. You storm out and stay in a hotel. He lets you for three days before coming to retrieve you. When you try to be stubborn, he gives you an exasperated look (as if you’re the one being unreasonable) and politely asks that you not make a scene by forcing him to carry you of there.

For your own reputation, you comply, glowering out his car window the whole ride to his house. Try to give him the silent treatment which lasts about 30 minutes before he’s got you moaning and whining on his cock.

He drives you to the shop in the morning and picks you up at night. Anytime you try to put your little foot down, he just scoops you off them. The neighbors start cooing that he’s such a good man. You try not to scream.

When he’s finally deployed again, you try to move all your things back to your home. Except the movers apologetically tell you that they can’t trespass on John’s property.

Fine, you’ll do it yourself. Somehow.

You pack two suitcases and some of your cookware. Load it all up in a rental - because John sent your damn car into the shop - and trying to get comfortable in your own flat again.

Except it’s all wrong. The scent of smoke still lingers, it’s cold because the heating hasn’t been turned on yet this year. Half your things are gone and there’s no food in the fridge or pantries. You tough it out. Buy a ready-made meal and new bed linens and pillow. Sleep in a bed too cold even with the heat finally on.

When John calls, you don’t answer. He sends a text that simply reads “I love you.” You toss your phone across the room.

The next night, when he calls again and you don’t answer, he sends a “stay safe, love.” You spend twenty minutes with fingers poised over the keys. Chug a glass of wine and send back a neutral “you too, John”.

When he calls on the third night, you pick up, bark a sharp “knock it off” and hang up. Another text that he was so happy to hear your voice.

Another call, you pick up and demand “what are you doing?” He chuckles on the other end. “Calling my darling wife. I miss you.” You believe him. That’s the worst part.

When he gets back, you ride the long, long river of denial right up until he’s at your door, eyebrows arched. “Really, love,” he hums, “you didn’t have to come all the way over here just because you missed me.”

You want to hit him. You storm off to your bedroom instead. He wanders the house. You hear him clattering in the kitchen and wandering around the living room. When you hear the door close, you think he’s finally left and given all this up.

Twenty minutes later, he’s casually removing the door (sans hinges) and gathering you up. When you get back to his house, he carries you inside and fucks the tantrum right out of you in the shower, growling that you don’t smell like home anymore.

When you wake up from your three-orgasm induced nap, he’s washing the clothes you took to your old flat. On your left hand is a pretty diamond with “JP” carved into the band.

At the store, people start calling you “Mrs. Price”. The neighbors (John’s neighbors) invite you over as “the Prices”. You glare at him when he starts looking too smug about it.

When he’s set to deploy again, he sits you on the kitchen counter, caging you in with arms.

“Don’t make me come get you this time,” he warns, pressing kisses along your jaw. “This is gonna be a rough one. I just want to see you when I get home.”

It’s a warning that you know to heed. You don’t try to leave this time. When he calls, you answer, rattling off stupid details about your day. You’re shocked to hear him remember names and dates and tasks with everything else hes got going on. Promises he’ll deal with the creep at the post office when he gets home.

“And… you are coming home… right?” you ask.

“Nothing could keep me away, love.”

He doesn’t call for three days straight. You tell yourself the tightness in your chest is just anxiety over how the hell to handle his assets if he’s dead.

At 3am, the bed dips, a warm body pressing up against your back. You recognize John’s arms wrapping tight around your waist. You stir.

“Are you alright?” you ask.

“Perfect now, love.”

“Mm welcome home.”

“Good to be home, gorgeous.”

#thoughts™️#cod #my writing #fanfiction #dark fic #reader fic #john price x reader #john price #captain john price

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goldenlikedayl1ght · 6 months

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lover, you should've come over - m. schmidt

a/n: you guys should have seen this one coming! as always i appreciate any likes and reblogs and hope you enjoy :) warnings: suggestive themes, big angst, lots of talk about tattoos and pain and needles, mike having horrible anxiety and commitment issues, reader is mostly gender neutral except for one thing ! tattoo aftercare, hurt/comfort, kissing word count: 3.6k summary: you get a tattoo, and it terrifies mike. mostly because he realizes how much you love him. pairing: mike schmidt x gn!reader now playing: lover, you should've come over - jeff buckley "my body turns and yearns/for a sleep that won't ever come/it's never over/my kingdom for a kiss upon her shoulder."

Penny has done almost all of your tattoos, save for the stick and poke star you gave yourself while you were way too high to be handling that sort of equipment, and a few flash designs you’ve gotten for holidays. And usually, you keep it simple and easy, pitching a design idea and getting a finished stencil a few hours later.

But this time, you go into the shop a few months before you plan to get the tattoo and describe to her what you want. She’s shocked that you want a half sleeve—It’s a big step, she tells you, and it’ll mean sitting for a few hours while she does her work. It’ll be painful, and the design will take a few weeks to get made, because she wants to give you the best possible design.

She does good work. When you visit again in about three weeks, you put down a deposit and make an official date to get it done. October 9th.

You go home that night to your small, but warm home to find your boyfriend trying to make chicken parm. His goal all year has been to learn how to cook, not just to make things out of a box. You know a bit better how to cook, but you let him improve his skills, always providing helpful, gentle critiques.

Abby is worse at being gentle.

She’s brutal with her brother’s cooking, and even though Mike loves your gentle words, he appreciates Abby’s feedback, and just wants her to eat a full plate of food before bed each night.

Tonight, his food smells good. You mentioned about a month ago how you missed your mom’s chicken parm, and since then, he’s been reading and researching different recipes at work. Ever since he quit working at Freddy’s, he’s put down the book of dreams and has picked up cookbooks, working his way up slowly.

You tell him he’ll be making Thanksgiving Dinner in no time. You kiss his jaw when you say that, and later, he returns the favor by placing a kiss to your shoulder.

You go to him, standing in the kitchen, as he squints at the recipe book in front of him. He wears washed blue jeans, an old Foo Fighters tee shirt and a pair of blue fuzzy socks. A towel hangs over his shoulder as he mutters to himself, as he gets ready to put some garlic bread in the oven.

You’re still in your work clothes, though, it’s not as if you’re wearing anything fancy. Just a different pair of jeans, and a tee shirt with your shop’s logo on it. Your hair is messy, and you smell vaguely of dirt. The smell has become comforting to him in his time knowing you.

You step closer to him, a hand resting gently on his shoulder. He relaxes at your touch.

“Hey, Mike.” You say softly, leaning your head on his shoulder.

“Hey, how was your day?”

“Not too bad. The food smells pretty good.”

“You think so?” His voice is hopeful, especially since he’s trying to live up to your memories of the dish as a kid. It’s his way of thanking you for being so good to him while he’s gotten his shit together.

“Mhm. I’m gonna go wash up and have Abby help me set the table.” You tell him. You kiss his jaw quickly before heading off to the bathroom to scrub the dirt from beneath your fingernails. You wash your face and arms too and begin to realize how domestic this all is.

You never saw yourself having kids, and never thought of yourself dating someone who did.

And you still never think about having kids, but you did find yourself treating Abby as if she is your own. This has nothing to do with how much you adore her brother. Abby is just easy to love. You wonder if anyone’s ever told her that.

When your work boots find themselves at the end of your bed, you change into a muscle tee. You’re awfully fond of them. You find a pair of Mike’s fuzzy socks and slip them on too. You take a moment to stare at your shoulder in the mirror, imagining how it’ll look when ink covers it. Most of your tattoos are on your legs, and for a long time, this arm has been bare of any ink. You’ve been saving it for this project for years.

You go to Abby’s room and knock gently before entering. You find her painting at this aisle you got for her birthday. She’s been working on this painting for a few days now, and it’s turning out quite nice.

“Hey, Abs.” You say softly, and she puts her paintbrush down to give you this big, toothy grin. “Go wash up and help me set the table?” You ask.

“Sure.” She hums and starts to skip along to the bathroom, but you stop her at the door.

“And remember, even if Mike’s food is bad, what do we say?”

“Mm, this food is so good and not horrible at all!”

“Abby.”

She sighs.

“This is unlike anything you’ve made before, and I appreciate the effort?”

“That’s it.” You let her go wash up, and then go to set the table.

When Mike eventually serves dinner, you’re starved. You don’t care if it’s bad, or if it’s burnt, you know you’ll like it because you weren’t able to take a lunch break that day. But it genuinely looks good.

He cuts up Abby’s food and puts the plate in front of her before sitting down and looking to you two for a reaction. You take a bite, and you have to pause.

Did Mike really cook something not just edible, but… good?

Not fine, not decent, really good.

“Mike, this is—”

“Amazing!” Abby gasps, going in for another bite. His cheeks flush.

“You guys don’t have to pretend, it’s alright—”

“No, Mike, we’re not pretending, it’s really good!” You defend, going in for a second bite yourself. “Try it!”

He does, and he even looks shocked at the quality of the food he’s produced. And it sets the mood for the whole dinner, until you eventually blurt out,

“I booked a tattoo appointment for next week.”

“What are you getting?” Mike can’t ever admit this to you, but he adores your tattoos. He thinks the placement of them are all wonderful, even if they’re smaller. He likes to kiss them, to trace his fingers over them, to just admire them in the summer.

“It’s a surprise.” You tell him. Owning your own shop and being your own boss has its perks. You have no worries about people judging you for your half sleeve, deciding that you can just ban them from your shop.

Your conversation drifts off and you focus on other things. When you’re done, you and Mike begin to clean up with him, letting some of the pan soak in the sink. You sit on the counter, drying some of the plates as Mike rinses.

“Thank you for dinner.” You tell him.

“I’m glad you liked it.” Comfortable silence fills the room. “You’re really not gonna tell me what you’re getting?”

“I told you, it’s a surprise.” You smile softly. He dries his hand and steps between your legs. His hands land on either side of you, caging you in.

“Tease.” He mumbled, leaning forward, and kissing your shoulder. A hand goes to his hair, your fingers tangling in his locks.

“I’m not teasing, I’m just being a little secretive.” You tell him, playing with his hair. You’re a fan of the scruff he’s been growing out lately.

“Isn’t it gonna hurt?”

“Yeah, but I’ll take breaks and remember to eat.” You tell him. “This isn’t my first tattoo, Mike.”

“I know, baby.” He says softly, “I just get worried—”

“You get worried about me? And yet, when I’m worried about you, you ignore me but—” He cuts you off with a kiss, and your hands land on his jaw, the scruff tickling your face.

• • •

The ink swirls around your shoulder, a moth wrapping around your shoulder and reaching to the top of your arm. Vines wrap around the moth, as flowers bloom in different places. Your birth flower is one of them, as well as your mother’s. You also place Abby and Mike’s around the moth, maybe protecting it. Thorns poke out of some of the vines, and the ink covers your shoulder, and down to just above your elbow.

You got it done on a Saturday afternoon, leaving late enough so Mike could sleep in without having to deal with Abby, but being able to give them some time to relax together.

It takes a few hours, and by the end of it, you’re exhausted. As with all your other tattoos, you’re sore, but this is a new type of sore. You ache for Mike’s hands on you, to hold you and kiss your shoulders, even though he can’t kiss your left shoulder for a few days.

The second skin will remain on your arm for a day or two, and then you’ll have to go through the process of moisturizing your tattoo.

You have Penny take lots of photos of it before you head home, Mike and Abby both waiting in anticipation for you to come home and show them your new ink. You’re excited to show them, since there’s a connection to them in the art.

When you open the door, Abby runs to you and immediately starts to look for the ink in question. She gasps when she sees it, all wrapped up on your arm.

“It’s a moth,” You tell her, “With my favorite plants.” You crouch down to point out different plans in the works. “These are my mom’s birth flowers, they’re carnations.” You tell her, “Do you know what these are?” You point to another flower.

Abby shakes her head, resisting the urge to reach out and touch the fresh, raw flesh of the person she considers to be her caregiver.

“They’re lily of the valley flowers. They’re your birth flower.” You reach out and tuck hair behind her ear. Then, you point to the third flower. “And these? They’re honey suckles. They’re Mike’s birth flower.”

Mike watches your interaction, listening to your explanation of the tattoo. Suddenly, this anxiety pools in his chest. You’ve been living together for a few months, but somehow a symbol of him and Abby being engraved on your skin makes things all too real.

He could cry.

“Did you get the flowers because you’re a flower person?” You grin, knowing she doesn’t remember the title of your job.

“Botanist, you mean? Sort of, but you two mean a lot to me, and I wanted to tribute something to you guys.” You confess.

She grins and turns to look at Mike.

“I wanna be a tattoo artist when I’m older.” Mike is pale with anxiety.

He wants to tell you it looks good, that it’s brilliantly done, but he doesn’t find it in himself. He wants to run, to abandon this relationship at the door, to never speak to you again to avoid the fact that he wants you desperately and thinks he might marry you one day.

He walks off to the bathroom, and he’s unsure if it’s to throw up or to cry.

You’re disappointed, because you wanted him to like it desperately, since this tattoo is now on you forever, and you wanted it to be a tribute to him. It almost hurts you that he doesn’t love it. Or at least pretend to. Instead, his disdain is visible on his face, and you do your best to turn your attention back to Abby.

“Wanna help me make dinner?” You smile softly, and she nods.

“Did your tattoo hurt?” She acts gently.

“Yeah, but with a good artist it goes quickly, and they don’t aim to torture you.” You explain, as you begin to make mac and cheese.

As she sets the table, you turn back to her and ask, “Can you go get Mike for dinner?” She nods and skips along to your bedroom, where Mike sits on the bed, frustrated with himself.

“Mike?” She asks gently. “We’re making mac and cheese.”

“I’m not hungry.” He says softly, and Abby can just tell something isn’t right.

“Are you okay?”

“I don’t feel well..”

“Oh…” she suspects this is a lie.

“I’m sorry. Tell them I said sorry.” Tears prick Mike’s eyes. He’s unsure why he’s like this, and why he can’t just admire your tattoo and love you and tell you how much you mean to him. But he can’t. He gets the words out. He wants to love you so badly but something in him demands to not let him be happy.

He lays on the bed and tries to stay quiet as he cries.

• • •

Hours later, you sit at the table anxiously, your hands tapping on the wood, a cold bowl of Mac and Cheese on the table. You decide to get up to clean up dinner, and just as you do, soft steps creep out of the bedroom and into the kitchen area.

Mike stands and stares at the cold dinner that he feels bad for rejecting. He should just tell you what’s bothering him. Instead, his gaze turns and looks at you, doing the dishes.

“You didn’t have to make dinner.”

“You didn’t seem well, and Abby needed to eat.”

This comment sparks a much larger fire in Mike, and he isn’t sure why he’s angered by how much you care about his sister, his world.

“You aren’t her mom, you don’t have any reason to make her dinner or put her to bed—”

“Yeah, Mike, well, You’re not really her dad.” You glare. “I’ve taken care of her for months, fed her, made sure she’s taken care of, I’ve picked her up from school, and now suddenly, you’ve decided I have no right to just care about her? Fuck you, if you don’t love me anymore, then don’t take it out on your sister, talk to me like a god damn grown up and stop acting like a child.” You spit, angrily turning back around to keep doing your dishes so that Mike doesn’t see your red face or your tears.

With your back turned, he can see the moth on your shoulder blade, and he aches to trace the lines of your tattoos, kissing the skin around it. But cotton fills his mouth every time he tries to sew the gap between you two.

And your words strike him. He knows why you might think he doesn’t love you anymore, but he does. He loves you deeply and finds himself enamored with you, and yet he can’t even compliment this tattoo that you have obviously put a ton of time, effort and money into.

“I’m sorry—” You start, but he cuts you off.

“I think we should give each other some space.” The words hit you like a ton of brick, and you’re ready to get on your hands and knees and beg him, beg him to not leave, beg him to forgive you (for what, you don’t know), beg him to touch you, beg him to want you.

“What..?”

“I just think I need some space.” He said softly, leaning against the kitchen doorway. You want to ask if he’s hungry, to kiss away all the sadness in the worry lines of his face.

You nod, bite your tongue. He wants to hold you and tell you he doesn’t mean it.

“I’ll sleep on the couch.” You mumble, sighing softly. You also plan to leave early before Mike gets up.

Mike steps towards you, maybe to apologize. You step past him to go get pajamas from your dresser, not letting him grasp onto you. You don’t want him to apologize now. You want him to sit in his regret and you want to sit in your anger.

As you attempt to fall asleep that night, you pray Abby didn’t hear your conversation with him.

Both of you try to drift to sleep and salt streams from your eyes and into your ears.

• • •

A few days pass. Your tattoo starts to heal, and you take the second skin off your shoulder and arm and begin the process of aftercare.

You and Mike exchanged a total of about thirty words over the next few days. Abby noticed your angst towards each other and tried to get the two of you to make up. She figured that Mike was being an idiot, and just needed to apologize.

She was right, but he didn’t want to admit that to his kid sister.

It’s hell. You have to pretend that you don’t want to beg for his forgiveness, but you know that neither of you are blameless. Your pride tells you not to be the first one to cave. His anxiety tells him that you hate him.

When he gets home one afternoon from work, you’re napping in bed. He knows the couch isn’t that comfortable and he’s sure you’re home because you’d mentioned to Abby that you weren’t feeling well. You probably didn’t expect to still be asleep when he got home.

But you’re wearing one of his shirts. He kisses your head and leaves a glass of water and cold medicine on the nightstand, before going to make himself busy somewhere else, as if not to disrupt your rest.

He takes one last glance at you before he leaves.

One night, he comes home from work late. You take it as an opportunity to take a hot shower after putting Abby to bed and taking a few minutes to sit in the bedroom that you missed while sleeping on the couch.

Besides, your bones ached from that uncomfortable couch while you were spoiled, used to Mike’s warm bed.

You barely hear the front door open as you continue your nightly routine. You need to apply lotion to your tattoo, to keep it moisturized as it heals. But you find yourself struggling to reach your shoulder.

Mike watches you from the doorway of the bedroom, biting his lip. The bags around his eyes have grown darker since your fight.

He takes off his boots first, and then strips his top down to an undershirt, then takes off his jeans. If you weren’t so busy, you’d acknowledge how handsome he looked in just his boxers and a gray tee shirt.

The bed dips behind you, as he sits behind you. You stop what you’re doing.

“Give me the lotion.” He says softly, and with a sigh of defeat, maybe even a bit of relief, you hand him the lotion. He squirts some lotion on his hands, then begins to rub it into your skin. You shudder at the contact, and he feels tears in his eyes again. He missed you. “I’m sorry I didn’t say I liked your tattoo. I love it.”

“I’m sorry I said you didn’t love me, and I’m sorry I said you weren’t Abby’s dad.”

“But I’m not—”

“But you are her parent.”

“So are you.”

A silence fills the room.

“What happened on Saturday?”

“I got anxious when I saw Abby and I’s birth flowers on you. Like how much I loved you was just engraved in your skin, and I didn’t know what to do with it. I didn’t mean to push you away, I was just terrified. Terrified that you’re going to leave. Terrified that I won’t be able to protect you.” His voice cracks at the end, and he leans his head against your shoulder that isn’t inked.

Your head turns to kiss his head.

“I’m not going anywhere.”

“I know..” he says softly, but a part of him doesn’t believe it. You and Abby, you’re the only ones who have stayed, the only ones he’s been able to save. He doesn’t know who he is without the two of you. “I’m sorry, I was such a dick.”

“Yeah, but so was I.” You tell him.

“I love your tattoo. I love all of your tattoos. All of them. I love kissing them. I’m desperate for this one to heal so I can kiss this shoulder again.”

“Thank you for helping me with it. It itches like a son of a bitch.” You tell him, a weak smile on your face. Tears stain your shirt.

“Can we go back to normal now? I’ve missed you.”

“I miss you so much.” You turn and wrap your arms around him, the warmth radiating from his body as he holds you close. You wonder if either of you will ever be able to let yourselves be loved.

You hope to let each other try.

You kiss him, salty tears mixing, as you hold him close. He’s careful of your tattoo, not wanting to scratch or hurt you. He’s gentle in a way that betrays him. He desires you in this way that transcends want or need, something that is vital, as if it were breathing.

Yet his hands remain respectful. Gentle. You’re the one that adjusts your position to be over him, as you gently push him back against the bed, kissing him deeper.

He decides he will marry you someday. That maybe the idea of being with you for the rest of his life isn’t scary.

Not when you kiss him like that.

#mike schmidt #mike schmidt x reader #mike schmidt x you #movie!mike #five nights at freddy's #fnaf movie #five nights at freddy's movie #abby schmidt #abby schmidt platonic #mike schmidt angst #hurt/comfort #josh hutcherson

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sp0o0kylights · 1 year

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Part Two

15 days before Christmas Steve Harrington flinches when the Christmas lights strung along the arcade flicker.

Eddie only notices because he makes a habit out of keeping an eye on questionable people when he's out and about.

Watches Harrington recover with a little shake of his head and a roll of his shoulders, as Gareth finishes up his shift, swapping cashier positions with Jeff.

Dustin and Lucas stick around long enough to greet Jeff as Eddie stares, before scuttling off to Harrington's car, pushing and shoving each other the whole way.

Eddie frowns, but decides to put the whole thing out of his head.

He doesn't need his little lamb's adoration of evil high school figures to poison his day.

xXx

12 days before Christmas and Eddie is starting to realize Harrington is everywhere.

There's a little holiday display the town center has put on. A temporary ice rink surrounded by dazzling lights, hot chocolate stands, and plenty of things to see.

Wayne and Eddie, with their traditional day of Christmas shopping complete, stroll within it, a cup of hot chocolate in hand. They never buy much--can’t, but it’s still something fun for Eddie to do with his Uncle and so and he bounces about with glee as they people watch.

A familiar shriek hits the air, and Eddie turns in time to see Mike and Dustin collide on the ice, while Lucas and his sister skate literal circles around them, laughing.

Unable to pass up on the opportunity to tease, Eddie flies to the edge of the rink, waving his hand and demanding one of the kids do a flip.

"A flip!? Eddie, I can't even skate a circle!" Henderson shouts, at the same time as Wheeler adds;

“Let’s see you try and skate with these idiots!”

“Sorry Wheeler, I think getting on the ice with you might be hazardous to my health.”

“Shut up!”

Delightful banter officially traded, Eddie turns to find his Uncle in a conversation with Steve Harrington.

Grin immediately faltering into a frown, he approaches cautiously right in time to see Wayne clap Harrington on the shoulder.

“It gets better.” Wayne says gruffly, in that tone he uses when he’s trying to give deeply emotional advice without the emotional part.

The younger boy gave a hard nod, muttering something that might have been “Thanks.”

Eddie jerked to a stop several steps away, but close enough for Wayne to see him, to know he was done and it was time to go.

Thankfully his Uncle picked up the signal, and made his way over, so the two of them could finish out their lap around the town center.

"He’s one of your classmates, right?" Wayne asked, as they turned away from the rink, Harrington back to watching the kids laugh and play around the ring.

"Not anymore." Eddie scoffs. "That's Steve Harrington."

Wayne hums noncommittally.

"As in, the rich Harrington's.” Eddie prods, because come on everyone knew who the Harrington’s were, just as everyone delighted in rightfully shitting on them. They weren’t good people. “As in, the assholes from Loc Nora?"

Another hum.

Then; "People are more than their last name, Eds. You should know that."

Eddie jerks back, stung at the admonishment.

Wayne’s not mad, never is, but Eddie recognizes his Uncle’s disappointed tone loud and clear.

"One of the gifts you got from me was seein’ through people's bullshit.." Wayne continues, before sucking in a draw on his cigarette. "I'm surprised you didn't see through his."

‘I don’t want to see through his!’ Is what Eddie wants to say, but keeps it to himself.

Changed the subject instead, shoulders hiked to his ears, because Harrington having some kind of claim on his new players was one thing, but his Uncle!?

He didn’t care about whatever crap the guy was going through. King Steve has been an ass for as long as Eddie had known him, the kind of bully whose downfall you cheered for.

Sure it was petty, but guys like Harrington reveled in pettiness.

So who cared if Eddie didn’t want to look closer at him now? Harrington wasn’t a lost lamb.

He was at best, an injured wolf, and no amount of sad looks was going to make him any safer to be around.

xxx

9 days till Christmas and Wheeler is having a tantrum that's delaying Hellfire's holiday oneshot.

"I don't get why he hates Christmas so much. He didn't even know Will when he disappeared!" Mike snips with his arms crossed.

Dustin is across from him, a furious scowl on his face, as Lucas stands between, a physical barrier between the two.

"As usual, you're talking out of your ass, Mike." Henderson spits, furious. "He was in Will's house with Jonathan and Nancy. That's reason enough!"

As if that makes any kind of sense, but then this isn’t the first argument that went into weird territory like this. Eddie’s always prided himself on pulling stories out of people, earning secrets and truths with a well trained ear and a smarter mouth.

The freshman though, were proving to be a hell of a challenge.

Mike throws his hands in the air. "I'm just saying, we all have way more reasons to hate Christmas, but none of us are acting like the grinch!"

“I know you can only have two good thoughts a day without breaking your brain, but you're being so stupid." Dustin thunders. "Did you ever think Steve might have other reasons to hate Christmas!?”

Eddie almost groans aloud, because of course, of fucking course, this is about Harrington.

The guy was a goddamn ghost at this point, hellbent on haunting Eddie’s entire life.

Didn’t even have the courtesy to die first!

"Guys." Lucas stressed, hands now firmly pressed against Mike and Dustin’s chest. “Come on, we’re wasting time. We can talk about this later.”

“Oh don’t worry about that Sinclair,” Eddie purred, making the three of them jump, as though they had forgotten they had a full ass audience in the form of the rest of the club. “I’m just docking their HP points for every minute they hold up the game.”

“Shit!” Dustin and Milke yelled as one, scrambling to get to their chairs.

Gareth and Jeff snicker, Grant making it known he was over their antics with a look that could have burnt gold.

Eddie clapped his hands once, hard enough for it to echo throughout the room. “If everyone is done bickering,” He announced, slipping into his DM voice, “we can begin our tale…”

He launches into the story he’d planned, and enjoys pulling everyone into it, all thoughts of Steve Harrington left behind.

xXx

5 Days before Christmas and Eddie is panic shopping.

He’s not the one panicking, nor the one shopping, but he has a car and friends who know where he lives, so he’s woken up at an ungodly hour of the morning (10 am) by Gareth, Grant, and Henderson of all people.

“Gareth’s sister took the car again.” Grant explains with dramatic, rolling eyes at Eddie’s exasperated face.

“I’m sorry you planned going shopping five days before Christmas?”

“Well--no-” Grant continues at the same time Dustin and Gareth yell protests.

They talk over each other for a moment, loud enough to make Eddie crave coffee and the comfort of his bed.

He runs one hand through his frizzy, bedhead hair before yanking it out and waving it around to catch his friend's attention. “Alright, I get it! You all decided to do white elephant gift thing last minute, and are now scrambling."

"Speaking of which, you're invited." Henderson tells him with a cheeky grin. "We're doing it on Christmas Eve."

Of course they were.

"Please man? It'll be fun." Gareth pleads, as Grant shoots him his patented puppy dog eyes.

Eddie sighs.

"I'll do it, but!" He sticks a finger in the air as grins broke out, "I'm demanding food and coffee and payment!"

With that he retreated from the door, stomping back to his room.

"Good coffee, too!" He hollers as he throws on clothes, happy chatter breaking out among his friends.

Several arguments and one run to the best to-go coffee shop in town, and Eddie was following his buddies around as they wandered through downtown Hawkins.

Since the mall had burned, shopping options had been rather limited, shops slow to reopen.

It made it difficult to buy things last minute, but Eddie found it was actually kind of fun as Henderson explained the rules they'd all agreed on (hopefully, Gareth added, because the rules had been passed along in pieces.)

"The goal is to get outrageous, funny stuff." Dustin explains as they browsed the local bookstore. "Nothing more than fifteen dollars, and nothing Christmas-y."

Eddie raises an eyebrow. "Nothing Christmas-y?" He echoes curiously.

Dustin nods, serious.

"Yeah. Christmas can be kinda a downer for some people. We came up with this as a way to celebrate without all the holiday stuff involved."

"Some people like Harrington?" Eddie guesses, sinking feeling in his stomach.

There's no way Grant and Gareth would've agreed to do a gift exchange with Steve Harrington.

Right?

Dustin sighs dramatically, whole body heaving.

"I know you've got a weird hate-on for him, but this time of year is really hard on Steve." He snaps, exasperated. "It's not my place to talk about it outside the Party, but he doesn't deserve to deal with it on his own."

There's that word again, Party.

Capital P implied, just as it implies that it's a group that Eddie is firmly excluded from.

It stings as it lands, an unintentional insult that reminds Eddie that his newest little lambs have secrets they refuse to share.

Nevermind the fact that Steve is clearly included.

Eddie collects secrets like candy, but his poking and prodding had yet to get him a solid answer on the mysterious "party."

Rather than press, Eddie raises his hands in surrender.

"Easy there, tiger. No offense meant."

Full offense meant actually, but Eddie wasn't in the mood for a full blown Henderson Rant.

Dustin narrows his eyes, but takes his words at face value. "You know, you guys would really like each other if you both just got over yourselves."

Eddie snorts, but covers it by playfully shoving Henderson's cap down into his face.

"When hell freezes over maybe. Now look, they have a new science fiction display!" The last part is sing-songed.

Thoroughly distracted, Dustin lets the conversation drop, much to Eddie's relief.

(Because really him? Liking Harrington?

Not in a million freaking years.)

xxx

It's Christmas Eve and Eddie is staring furiously at Steve Harrington's house.

"No one told me he was involved." He hisses angrily, knuckles white on his steering wheel.

"Oh my god, stop being dramatic." Dustin rolls his eyes as he talks, unbuckling himself. “I told you Steve hates Christmas, so this is how we’re including him!”

Jeff is looking equally uncomfortable, even as Lucas and Mike fall out of the van.

Gareth's car is behind him, Grant with him.

No doubt they too, are staring at the massive house in front of them in horror.

Slowly the elder Hellfire members file out, standing in a clump as the younger members rush forward.

They storm the door like they live in the damn place, fluttering about like moths.

"What the hell." Jeff mutters quietly to Eddie's left.

"Yeah guys, what the hell." Eddie repeats, shooting a glare toward Gareth and Grant. "No one mentioned this part!"

"We didn't know." Gareth defends angrily. "This was all the freshman!"

"Are you idiots coming inside or not!?" Robin Buckley of all people yells, appearing in the now open front door.

Or rather, one of the front doors, because Harrington is rich enough to have two.

"Shit." Eddie mutters.

"It's not weird if we just--leave, right?" Grant mumbles, shuffling from foot to foot.

"It's very weird if we leave." Jeff responds flatly.

A flare of anger ignites in Eddie. It comes from Steve Harrington invading this entire holiday, and Eddie finally has a chance to catch him off guard.

He'd be damned if he let it pass by.

"Brave faces men." He says, tossing his hair back with a jerk of his hand. "We're storming the castle."

Struts forward determinedly, present in hand, fully planning on making Harrington as uncomfortable as he had made Eddie.

Unintentional, or not.

xXx

It's the day before Crapmas, the one holiday Steve hates, and he's somehow been sweet talked into hosting the kids white elephant exchange.

Which was fine--they were welcome in his home anytime and they knew it--but they'd conveniently forgotten to mention this was a Hellfire Club event.

As in, Eddie "the freak" Munson and his crew of three other dudes whose names Steve doesn't know (but who probably knew his.)

"I dunno man, I wasn't the best person to a lot of people." He worried at Dustin this morning, when the brat had sprung it on him. "This probably isn't the best idea."

"Please Steve!? It's too late to change the venue and you promised you'd do a holiday thing with each of us!" Dustin whined on the other end.

At least he had the forethought to not actually use the word "Christmas."

"You did everyone else's, you can't skip out on mine!"

Everyone else's was simple shit like taking them ice skating, or shopping, or making gingerbread houses.

Not hosting a whole ass party with four people who likely hated his guts--and for good reason.

Which Steve repeated to Dustin, staring vacantly at his carefully decorated house.

Once again, his parents had called in designers to come keep appearances, sending along their usual message that they may or may not be home depending upon various work factors.

"We just never know anymore with your father's job honey." His mother slurred on the phone, four years ago. "We'll make it up to you, sweetheart. Promise."

Like more money on his credit card could fix years of ruined holidays.

(At least them being gone was better than forcing Steve to perform in their horrible holiday parties. Dressing him up like a doll, gathering drunk adults around the piano to make him play horrid Christmas songs.

Showing him off like a well trained dog, complete with finger snaps to signal him to move on to his next trick. )

“Steeeeeeve-!”

As always, Steve crumbled under Dustin's badgering.

"Fine, fine!" He’d said. “You're responsible for letting them know me and Robin are gonna be there though!”

Robin, who’d been laying on his couch, poked her head up at her name.

“They’ll know!” Dustin had promised.

Then abruptly hung up, like the brat he was.

Now four half-terrified, half-murderous looking dudes were staring Steve down as they awkwardly stood in his living room, and he had the wondrous realization that Dustin had probably sprung this on them too.

‘Little. Asshole.’ Steve thinks, but plasters the best non threatening smile on his face.

“Hey, uh, guys.” He says with an awkward little wave.

He gets three sets of glares and one impressive looking spooked face back.

Mike and Lucas were already tackling the snacks he’d put out, cheeks full of chocolates and popcorn. Dustin was re-arranging furniture to his liking, and Robin, in-between her four classmates and Steve, glanced at both sides and rolled her eyes.

“Steve, go pull the pizza out of the oven. You lot, come sit down, you look like you’re about to bolt.” Robin snaps, making everyone sans the kids jump.

Happy for the distraction, Steve quickly retreats to his kitchen, overhearing Robin try and get the elder Hellfire members to identify themselves.

Chatter fills the room, slow at first, but it becomes more fluid with Robin’s ruthless prodding. The pizza ends up needing another five minutes, which suits Steve since he hadn’t had time to pull out drinks.

He’s bent at the waist, pulling out various cans when Dustin loudly announces his presence by barging into the fridge and smacking Steve’s ass with it.

With a yelp, cans fly everywhere as Steve drops them, bouncing off the floor and rolling across the kitchen.

“Henderson!” He gripes, standing up as the kid grins at him. He has all his teeth now but the smile will probably always feel cute to Steve. By-product of knowing the little shit for far too long.

“Sorry Steve.” He says dismissively, before stepping aside with a dramatic flair. “Now stop being a total housewife for a second and meet Eddie!”

The sound of cans still rolling ringing in his ears, Steve finds himself staring into Munson’s eyes.

Who looks all too delighted to have seen Steve fumble.

“Thought you were a jock, Harrington. What happened to those reflexes?” He smirks, and Steve feels his face flush red.

“Yeah well,” Steve says, hand reflexively rubbing the back of his neck, “Turns out hanging around kids kinda ruins them.”

This is clearly not the response Eddie was expecting.

Nor is he expecting Dustin to loudly announce that; “Steve once played a D&D campaign with us, but he totally ate it as a cleric. You should give him some tips, Eddie!”

Now it’s Steve’s turn to smirk, because Munson looks completely thrown.

“Is…that a joke?” Eddie asks carefully, looking between the two of them.

Dustin shakes his head. “Nope! You can ask Lucas’s sister, she was there.”

He then glances down at his watch, and gives the biggest fake gasp Steve has ever heard (and Steve once sat through Will and Mike acting in a play for their English class, while Nancy and Jonathan silently suffered second-hand embarrassment next to him.)

“Oh shit, I forgot something! Be right back!”

“Language!” Steve calls, as Dustin shoots out of the kitchen. “And be careful not to trip on the cans!”

Munson, who looks like he’s taken a wrong turn and ended up in the Twilight Zone, stares at him. “Did you seriously play a cleric?”

“Weave Healington was a brave man who sacrificed himself in a time of need.” Steve tells him seriously, just to see the guy’s reaction. “May he rest in peace.”

“Weave Healington.” Eddie deadpans.

Steve, keeping his face blank by the skin of his teeth, nods.

“Please tell me that wasn’t the pizza you just dropped.” Robin says as she flies into the kitchen, interrupting Eddie’s face rapidly cycling through different emotions with a badly wrapped present in her hands.

“Stevie boy dropped the pop, Buckley Bird.” Eddie says, recovering quickly. “I would not recommend drinking out of anything currently laying on the floor.”

“Noted.” Robin says, pausing to stare at the cans scattered about. “Hey Steve, did you wrap your weird eyeball thingie? Or do you want me to do it? I dunno how long the kids are gonna wait.”

Like a dog hearing a whistle, Munson’s whole head tips sideways. “Weird eyeball thingie?”

“Oh my god, it’s this--I don’t even know how to describe it. Like an alternative ouija board? It says it’s a “fortune telling game.” Robin makes the quotation marks with her hands. “It has this giant, ugly eyeball in the middle.”

She leans forward conspiratorially to add; “It glows in the dark.”

“Oh my god, Steve, your gift is Ka-Bala!?” Dustin says, bouncing up like a damn jack-in-the-box. “I’ve always wanted that game!”

“Robin!” Steve hisses, because of course she’d announce that right as Dustin would pop back up.

“Oh shit.” Robin says, shooting him an apologetic glance. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to ruin your gift.”

Steve sighs dramatically, but keeps a small grin on his face so Robin knows he’s not really upset. “Guess I’ll have to go find a new one--which means your punishment is that you and Dustin are now in charge of the pizza. And also picking up all the cans.”

“Curses.” Robin says flatly, before breaking out into a grin herself, while Dustin whines.

“It’s probably for the best.” Eddie says, though the guy sounds weirdly like someone desperately off balance and scrambling to fix it. “You know you weren’t supposed to pick cool gifts, right Harrington?”

Steve raises his eyebrows at him. “Cool? It’s kinda weird. It’s disgustingly neon green. And Robin forgot to mention it’s a board game.”

He pushes Dustin’s hat down as he walks by, and laughs aloud when Eddie follows up by knocking it right off Henderson’s head.

“Hey!” Dustin squeaks, hands darting to cover his hat hair.

He’s ignored.

“Neon green, giant eyeball, fortune telling board game?” Eddie sums up. “Yeah might have to murder Buckley because that sounds rad as hell.”

Steve snorts as he walks down the hall and up the stairs, somehow unsurprised to find the metalhead is following.

“You want it, Munson?” He asks as they hit his second floor, Steve aiming for his fathers office. “You’re welcome to it, I never even opened the thing.”

“What do you want for it?” Eddie asks, following Steve right through the door, before stopping dead.

A typical reaction to someone walking into his fathers stuffy, stupidly expensive office. Like the rest of Steve’s house, it looks as though it was transported straight out of a magazine. Everything is shiny and worse--unused.

“Nothing, man.” Steve said, standing in front of said desk now with his arms crossed. “I mean it, it’s still got the plastic on it. You’re gonna have to sneak it by Dustin though.” He turned to smile at Eddie, feeling like they were sharing a joke, “He might physically fight you for it.”

For some reason this made a hell of a blush streak across Munson’s cheeks, before the guy coughed and swung into the office behind Steve.

“He can try.” Eddie managed finally, voice a shade higher than normal.

As he always did to social things he didn’t understand, Steve just ignored the change.

“Why’d you never play it?” Eddie asks, as Steve scans the shelves of stupidly expensive knick-knacks.

“Someone trying to impress my parents got it for me one Christmas.” He says with a shrug. “They wouldn’t let me open it then, and I forgot all about it until I was digging for something else.”

“They don’t care about it now I take it?”

Steve can’t help the snort that leaves his throat. “They’d have to be around to care.” Then to get the conversation back on track, says; “Okay, I’m thinking the shitty World’s Best Boss trophy.”

He points to the gaudy thing, all shiny from the ass kissing the person who’d purchased it had done in hopes Steve’s dad would give him a raise. Or not fire him, Steve never knew which it was.

"I take it your dad’s not gonna be here to care that it’s gone?” Eddie asks, walking up to stand next to Steve.

Another grin appears on Steve’s face, shared conspiratorially with Eddie when he looks over to the metalhead. “That’s my gift to myself man. I’m gonna see how long it takes before he notices it’s gone.”

Eddie whistled, quiet enough to not hurt Steve’s ears. “Fuck the old man, huh?”

“Absolutely.” Steve agreed, stepping forward to fish the trophy down.

“Gotta say man, you’re surprising me. I didn’t expect such a thing from you. Especially since Henderson told me you hate Christmas.”

Steve shrugged as he turned back around, new white elephant gift in hand. “Yeah it’s a thing I’m trying.”

Eddie raised an eyebrow. “Not hating Christmas?”

“Not being a dick. Which,” He shook the trophy, “--means sticking it to the biggest dick in my life. I think I’ll always hate Christmas.”

Eddie snorted a laugh, then looked startled, like he hadn’t expected that reaction out of himself.

Steve grinned at it.

“You uh--you know if you ever want to talk about the hating Christmas thing, I think I get it. Or can relate. Sorta.” Eddie says, and it’s so stilted that it takes Steve a moment to figure out what he’s offering.

He almost asks him if he’s kidding, but thinks better of it.

“I think I’m less cut up about it then the kids are but, for what it’s worth--thanks.”

Doesn’t think he’ll ever take anyone up on that offer, epically not someone who doesn’t know that an entire hell dimension exists under them but--

It’s nice. To have someone recognize that Steve hates it. That there are reasons he might.

He recalls suddenly that the man at the ice rink who’d also seen through his melancholy was in fact, Eddie’s Uncle, and briefly wonders if this just runs through the family.

“Come on, I gotta wrap this and then get back downstairs before Robin and Dustin burn the house down.” He says instead, because he doesn’t want to get in his own head about it. Not tonight, when he knows the kids have gone out of their way in an effort to celebrate the holiday without making him feel like he was celebrating it. “Or worse, they start the white-elephant without us.”

“After you, my liege.” Eddie says with a dramatic bow.

Steve pauses awkwardly for a moment, before giving the world's most careful curtsey back.

(Laughs loudly as Eddie almost falls on his face in surprise, before the older man scrambles to chase after Steve, out of the office.)

xXx

It’s 12:00 pm, making it officially Christmas day, and Eddie Munson is rapidly re-evaluating his entire life.

Well perhaps not all of it, just the parts with Steve Harrington.

They’re playing the best white-elephant game Eddie has ever participated in, a cutthroat competition that’s filled the house with shrieks and laughter.

Henderson’s gift, cat-paw shaped mittens with “You’ve gotta be kitten me” scrawled on the back is the current winning prize, with Mike’s salt and pepper shakers made in the shape of two pigs “porking” being a close second.

The worst gift is a tie between the eye searing scarf Gareth’s mother had created (complete with bedazzled gems) and an abomination of a stuffed animal Grant insists is an ET doll.

It looked like a deformed llama sat on its ass, and Lucas already scared Mike with it twice.

Eddie’s own gift, ( a mug with Tom Selleck posing shirtless) was jokingly fought over by Robin and Steve to the bitter end, while Gareth was defending the blue circular cookie tin (the kind that mothers shoved needles and sewing threads into, but shockingly enough actually held real cookies) with his life.

Literally at one point, as he laid over it while Jeff tackled him.

Eddie himself had gone for the gold, wanting the trophy Steve had procured. He too, was defending it aggressively against Dustin, who was currently stuck with Lucas’s gift (one of his sister’s pet rock creations she’d apparently tried to sell to her classmates.

It was hideous.)

Now stretched out on his bed, legs in the air as he stares at the Ka-Bala game Steve had snuck into his arms with a wink, Eddie finds he’s the guy’s managed to go from haunting his whole life, to trying to haunt his heart.

Made him want to do the thing he’d angrily been against this entire time--take a look at the guy closer.

See past his bullshit, at the person hiding underneath.

Find out what Steve was talking to his Uncle about, and why his house looked like a Christmas themed tomb.

Why his parents were gone. What the hell made him he pick a cleric in D&D. How he met the kids and why Dustin thought the sun shines out of his ass.

But most of all?

Why the hell had Steve Harrington put a note on the back of the Ka-Bala game?

‘Hope you like the game..’ It read, with the dorkiest little smiley face. ‘I wouldn’t mind hanging out again.’

Below it was a number, and Eddie felt himself go red in the face.

Steve Harrington was a fucking mystery, but one Eddie himself, had been personally invited to solve.

‘Merry Christmas to me I guess.’ He thought, and tried very, very hard not to kick his legs in the air.

#I invite you all to end your xmas with some steddie fluff #steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #steve x eddie #steve harrington x eddie #stranger things #stranger things fanfic #stranger things 4 #0o0 fanfics #xmas special #fluff #Ka #Ka-Bala is a real game and its the goofiest looking thing ever.#white elephant

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ellavatorz · 1 year

Text

Kiss me Plenty || c.b. x reader

summary: you play the “I can’t stop kissing you,” prank on colby.

tags/cw: implied smut, kisses (lots of ‘em), tooth-rotting sweet fluff, established relationship, youtuber(s) relationship.

a/n: there isn’t much for me to say except that I have a very strong yearn for colby to be kissed 24/7. if that man isn’t being kissed at every second of the day like he deserves, then the world is a cruel joke of a place.

and a huge thank you to everyone who enjoyed my last work, you guys are so sweet T.T happy holidays!

- - -

You have the camera set up first thing in the morning. It’s hidden out of visible-sight and is focused on Colby’s usual spot; his desk, where he normally films intros to videos amongst other tasks in respect to his shared channel with Sam.

The plot of your video to be filmed today is explained to your audience. All while a grin is spread on your lips. “Today’s goal is to annoy the shit out of Colby by kissing the hell out of him. I don’t know how he’ll react considering he’s hyper-affectionate as it is… but its also normally something he does rather than me initiating it. So maybe he’ll suspect something right off the bat? Who knows!”

By the time Colby has migrated from your shared bed to his desk, you’re just outside the door, anxiously prepared for whatever may come of the situation. Without much of an extravagant entrance, you move toward where he is and stand behind him. His eyes are glued to the screen and you pretend to seem intrigued by whatever it is he’s looking at.

A yawn escapes his mouth as he reaches an arm behind himself, subconsciously searching for any part of you to grasp onto and reel in. “Good morning, baby.” He rasps, last night’s rest still grappling at his body.

“Morning,” you reply, allowing him to pull you closer. You take this as an advantage to wrap your arms around his shoulders from where you now stand beside him. “What are you working on today?”

Colby’s gaze is still caught on the screen when his own arm is snaked around your waist. His eyes flicker from one end to another, clearly focused on whatever he’s reading. “Just emails right now. I have a bit of review and editing tasks to get done on the apparel website too..”

“Ah, I see.” You sigh. Your eyes flash a mischievous glint toward the camera before you begin leaning into his space to plant a soft peck to his cheek. “Do you need anything? Water? Snacks?”

Still enraptured by work, he acknowledges your question half-heartedly. “No, love. Thank you though.”

You feign a frown at his response and begin swaying his chair left to right when the hold on your waist is replaced by the computer’s mouse. He scrolls through several pages, reading what he can manage to as you continue rocking his chair.

“What time do you think you’ll be done?” You question innocently, though you both are aware that his work is capable of enveloping the entirety of his day. He shrugs, too focused to respond. You take this as an opportunity to leave a kiss on the crown of his head, moving behind his chair to loosely circle your arms around his neck. “I think I’m gonna finish my Christmas shopping while you’re still here.”

He hums and it’s evident that he isn’t regarding your presence to the full extent that it’s normally at. You huff and lean over his shoulder to litter butterfly-light kisses along the side of his neck. He unconsciously cranes his neck, providing you with more access to the skin.

“Shouldn’t you come and eat breakfast first? You haven’t eaten anything.” You ponder aloud, and this time, he shakes his head.

“I’m fine, babe.“ he mutters, eyes squinting in the analysis of his emails. Your tongue comes out to swipe at your lips, wetting them before leaning further into his space and kissing him straight on the mouth. At this, he cocks his head to the side, granting you access for more.

You continue to press into him, feeling accomplished when you realize that now he’s fully focused on you. The kiss is languid and feels good enough to praise, but before you can fully enjoy it, Colby is pulling away with a pitiful smile. You don’t even have to question him because he’s apologizing in an instant.

“I’m sorry, petal. I really have to get these things done. I promise as soon as I get this out of the way, I’m all yours.” He says and you can’t help but feel a tug at your heart. God, he really is the cutest. With the way his eyes glimmer at you, you’re confident with the idea that this man could un-alive your childhood pet and get away with it by just looking at you with those damned ocean eyes.

“Just a minute more?” shaking off the thought of ending the video early out of awe for your boyfriend, you continue your antics. You plead instead, batting your lashes tauntingly while returning to his side.

He blinks owlishly at you and ultimately accepts, pulling you into his lap by the hips and allowing you to straddle him comfortably. You grin, wasting no time and diving straight in for a passionate kiss. His hands snake around you to land on your ass, giving a gentle squeeze to which you groan into his lips for.

For a second, you’re convinced that this moment would last for an eternity with the pace that he’s taking. Theres not a doubt that he’d absolutely waste an entire day just to kiss you, and in this case you want this to be one of those days. His kiss is smooth, gentle, yet fierce and meaningful. Your hands move on their own accord; one pressing into the broad of his chest and the other entangling into his hair.

There’s a moan serenading your ears after a few rough tugs to the strands on his head. However, before you know it, he’s giving you one last playful tug to your lip and placing a good space between the two of you. While you’re grateful for this moment to breathe, you also fall clueless as to why the hell he stopped.. until, of course, you remember that you’re filming a video, and he’s working. Hello!

“Do you know how distracting you can be?” Colby chuckles, and you take a few seconds to take in his appearance; hair tussled, eyes dark and dilated, lips swollen with a few teeth indentations caused due to your own accord. You almost want to spend the rest of the video admiring your work, but conclude that the show must go on.

“What ever do you mean, coleslaw?” You quip, pushing against his hands from where they’ve been placed on your shoulders to distance you from him.

He immediately motions for you to get off of him, his hands already shoving at your chest. “Coleslaw? You’re done. Get off of me.”

You laugh and reluctantly remove yourself from his lap only to make an attempt at lifting him up with you. As if knowing exactly what you’re about to do, he drops his weight into his chair. You grunt, tugging on his arms with all your might. He doesn’t budge.

“Baby,” you whine, and add a childish stomp for emphasis. “Can’t you just take today off to spend time with me? Please?”

He falls limp at your words, tossing his head back against the chair’s headrest and huffs in thought. “We already hung out yesterday. The entire day! What do you want to do anyway?”

Pouting, you take advantage of his loose posture to throne his lap once more. Again, circling his neck with your arms and trying to pull him impossibly closer. Though, he does his best to keep a stoic expression and an emotional stiffness to prevent persuasion.

“I miss you,” the words seemingly fall on deaf ears as he remains unfazed, eyes wandering around the room; in other words, anywhere but you. “..just wanted to kiss you today.. but i guess you don’t want my kisses. guess I’ll just find someone else who does—“

His sigh mimics one of defeat. His hold on your tightens in protectiveness, as if afraid you may be taken from him. You begin to feel that bubble of mischief rising to your cheeks, tugging your lips into a smile. Yes! It’s working!

“One more kiss, and i seriously have to get back to work, okay?” He gambles, and suddenly your smile is fading into a frown. He directs his stare back to you, a small quirk at the corner of his mouth. “What, isn’t that what you want? Take it or leave it, baby.”

You bare your teeth in grimace, eyes twinkling with competitiveness before you dive in. Planting your lips on his, you nip and lap at the opening he gives you. Without much hesitance, he’s reciprocating in eagerness. Your tongues dance in the heat of the moment, teeth clashing with force. It’s clear how much you two want each other. And it’s even more evident just how far you’re willing to go for it.

“God, what’s gotten into you?” He manages to slur through the daze you’ve entrapped him in. The intimacy in the kiss exceeds even deeper when you apply pressure against his crotch, gaining a desperate reaction in return. He whimpers against your lips, bringing you impossibly closer to his form as he ruts against you.

“just.. really.. want.. you.” Your voice tapers off into a moan with each breath you take in between. And that’s when you realize. Oh shit. he’s hard.

A probing feeling at your clothed entrance is all it takes for you to pull back and freeze, hands instantly darting for the camera from where it was hidden just a few minutes ago. You focus the rest of the footage toward you, regarding your boyfriend’s lustful daze as a sign to come clean. Placing one hand on his cheek while the other holds the camera, you give a breathy and worried giggle.

“Are you—“ you start, motioning toward the evident tent in his sweats. His eyes waver from your face for a mere second to assess the situation before returning to you. “Colby?”

“Is this is a prank?” He mumbles, cocking his head toward the camera in your hand. You nod, curtaining your smile by placing a palm over your mouth. “Oh,”

“Colby, It’s a prank. I didn’t expect it to go this far!” You admit, and suddenly the giddiness you had been shielding from escaping you throughout the video is released. You laugh in embarrassment. “Oh my gosh. Guys, if you saw anything…. No you didn’t. Haha! But seriously, my poor baby suffered today so if you enjoyed the video, be sure to like and subscribe. Until next time, bye!”

The moment the video comes to an end, Colby is cursing you up and down for the scheme you had hidden from him. However, his scolding shortly concludes with a soft, and admittedly disappointing, “—had me all excited..”

“Oh my poor baby,” you coo, both of you now free from an audience’s presence via camera. Holding his face in your hands, you apply pressure to his cheeks, forcing his lips to pucker when you go in for a gentle kiss. “‘M sorry. The fans really wanted to see what you’d do.”

“Well now they know, so can we please not do that again. you’re very irresistible and convincing you know that?”

You press a gentle peck to his cheek and huff. “Yeah I’ve heard it a few times from my boyfriend.”

“Wow. I feel bad for your boyfriend.” Colby jokes playfully.

“Do you? Hm. Guess I should be a little nicer to him.”

“Maybe.” He pouts his lips toward you, proceeding to lift you from where the two of you sit on his office chair. Your legs wrap around his middle as he travels toward your shared bed. “I think your boyfriend deserves it.”

“I think so too,” you smile. Continuing from where you had left off, you both spend the rest of the morning doing exactly as you begged for; spending the day together. And making out, of course. And maybe a little more than that.

#colby brock fanfic #colby brock imagine #colby brock x reader #colby brock x you #colby brock blurb #colby brock

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kaiijo · 5 months

Text

FRIENDS TO LOVERS — [KNB]

characters: aomine daiki, midorima shintarou, hanamiya makoto content: gn! reader, reader has implied tieable hair in midorima’s, toxicity (it’s hanamiya, no one is surprised) notes: scenarios inspired by prompt list here

aomine daiki ✶

aomine yawns again as he reclines against your pillows, sitting up only to peer at you. you’re working on homework that’s due in a couple of days, headphones covering your ears. you promised that you’ll order in food and play super smash bros with him when you finished, but it’s nearing eight and you’re still hunched over a problem set.

aomine groans loudly, “are you even close to being done?”

you move one headphone cup off. “i would be closer if you didn’t interrupt me every ten minutes.”

“i didn’t ask to hang out just to sit around.”

you roll your eyes. “you can go if you want, daiki.”

he sits up fully now, moving to the edge of your bed. “why’re you even doing this? s’not due ‘til friday.”

“some of us want to be good students.” you slide your headphones back on and turn back to scribbling out complicated equations on paper.

a couple of minutes pass again and instead of asking you anything, aomine stands up and shuffles behind you, reaching around and snatching the paper from underneath you. “hey!” you protest, shooting up from your seat and tearing off your headphones. “give it back, daiki.”

“no, you said you’d be done, like, two hours ago.”

“i swear i’m almost done!” you make a lunge for it and aomine just holds it above his head, his long arm adding to his already-massive height.

“no.” he smirks at the way your eyes furrow and your cheeks puff out. your head tilts to the left, and he knows that you’re thinking. he’s sure you’re going to try and jump of it again, so as a show, he stretches up further, the hem of his shirt lifting slightly. he swears he catches your eyes flickering down and something in his body sings a song of triumph and satisfaction at the motion. he can’t say why.

what you do next though is nothing that he expects. you stand on your toes, rest your hands delicately on his shoulders, and gaze up at him through your lashes. he startles; there’s something so… heated about your expression, about those half-lidded eyes.

“daiki,” you say softly. it’s almost hypnotic, the way you say his name, and he’s watching you with one raised eyebrow. the tips of his ears feel like they’re on fire.

he doesn’t even realize what he’s doing as his arm lowers, heading for the dip of your waist. he only snaps out of it at your victorious cry. “ha!” you take advantage of his still half-dazed state and push him firmly out of your bedroom door, closing it. the lock clicks into place and he hears you call on the other side, “one more problem, daiki, i promise. be a dear and set up smash in the living room?”

he walks down your hall automatically, the fire-like feeling spreading to his neck.

midorima shintarou ✶

takao holds up a porcelain statue of a cat. “what about this?’

“takao, what about that screams ‘midorima shintarou?’”

takao shrugs. “i don’t know, maybe it’ll be december 25th’s lucky item. does oha asa put out horoscopes ahead of time?”

“no, that’s why he listens every morning when it airs,” you reply, setting down a teapot from a bigger set. you thank the tired-looking cashier, who just waves drowsily as you two exit the shop.

the two of you have been shopping all day for midorima’s christmas present, wandering all over japan and into various tchotchke stores to look. he’s a notoriously hard person to please, especially with gifts, and neither of you want a repeat of the ‘grey’s anatomy incident’ where four people got midorima the same book last holiday season when he announced his intention to go to medical school. nor do any of you want to get that look from him that struggles to look somewhat grateful while being very, very obviously displeased.

“we’ve been walking all day!” takao whines, clutching his stomach as it lets out an ungodly rumble. you check your watch; you two have been out for at least four hours. you point at a small diner boasting american food. “would you be okay with that?”

“i’d eat you right now if you’d let me.”

you snort, “hard pass. come on.”

the hostess sits you two at a booth and you shrug off your heavy winter coats. you pick up a menu and glance over it, but when you go to ask takao what he’ll be getting and if he wants to split a large order of assorted fries with you, you see he’s not looking at the menu.

you definitely do not like the way takao is eying you right now. “what?” you ask defensively, hands flying to the top of your head to try and pet down at hair you presume has been ruined by your excursion. “do i look bad or something?”

“is that shin-chan’s sweater?”

fuck. you had forgotten about pulling on one of the sweaters midorima left at your house the last time you studied together. it’s insanely soft — a mix of gray wool and cashmere — not to mention extremely cozy and warm. you tried to return it to midorima before but he just pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose and huffed, “wear it until you get proper sweaters. no, sweatshirts don’t count.”

you internally groan. you don’t need takao on your ass again about whether or not you’re sure you and midorima aren’t dating or if you like him like that. honestly, the only reason you haven’t given him a certain yes or no is because… you don’t really know yourself.

you don’t have proper time to answer before the bell to the restaurant chimes and you see very recognizable green hair. of all the time and places he has to show up. (well, he did text you this morning that your zodiac sign was the least lucky and to wear a blue watch in order to improve your fortune; you should’ve found the watch.)

“oh! shin-chan!” takao waves him over, giving you a sly look. “we were just talking about—” takao’s stupid hawk-eyes zero in on midorima’s wrist as he tugs off his gloves. he looks way too please with himself as he asks, “shin-chan, is that they’re hair tie?”

hanamiya makoto ✶

hanamiya steps out of the locker room shower, cracking his knuckles as he makes his way to his locker to dry off and change. he rolls his shoulders, toweling off his hair as he changes back into his school uniform. yamazaki and hara a prattling away, snickering under their breaths about the injuries they inflicted: sprained ankle, a hairline fracture, a minor concussion.

hanamiya doesn’t even turn around as he growls, “can you two shut up?”

to just bug him more, hara pops his gum. loudly. “who pissed in your cereal, captain?”

furihara drones, “you were sloppier today. almost got fouled by the ref.”

hanamiya doesn’t reply, yanking the knot of his tie down furiously. “fuck off.”

hara lets out a low whistle and seto asks, “does this have to do with your little friend? they got a boyfriend, right?”

hanamiya lets out a long breath through his nose and he spins around to face his teammate. “for now,” he says, slamming his locker shut.

“you got a plan, captain?” asks yamazaki as he digs through his duffel bag.

“when do i not?”

———

you greet hanamiya’s mother with a thin smile when she opens the door. her face lights up when she sees you and she pulls you into a warm hug, telling you that hanamiya’s in his bedroom and that you could go right up.

you wonder if she can see the glossy film to your eyes or if she was polite enough not to comment on it.

hanamiya’s sitting at his desk, head propped up on his knuckle. he languidly flips through pages but you know he’s not really reading the material. he’ll get away with it too and get an a anyways, the bastard. he glances at you. “you look like shit.”

usually, you could banter with him. it’s why your friendship works; you have a thicker skin than most and you give just as good as you take, especially when it comes to hanamiya’s sneering, half-joking insults. normally, you would have replied with something like “still better than you,” but instead, your frayed nerves snap and you feels the hot tears start rolling down your cheeks.

hanamiya’s simpering expression sobers up and he sighs heavily, ushering you to sit on the bed. “why’re you crying?”

you sniffle and tell him that the guy you’ve been seeing from your literature class broke up with you. just out of the blue told you that you two wanted different things and you were going to colleges in different areas and that wouldn’t work and he was sorry and… that’s all you gleaned because his words were so rushed as he scurried off as fast as he could.

hanamiya’s brow furrows sympathetically and he draws you into a hug, saying, “i told you i didn’t like that guy. fuck him.”

you sink into his arms. “yeah,” you mutter, “fuck him.”

as you relax against him, hanamiya can’t help but smirk to himself in satisfaction. someone who runs off after a little confrontation doesn’t deserve anything from you.

#knb x reader #kuroko no basuke x reader #kuroko's basketball x reader #aomine daiki x reader #aomine x reader #midorima shintarou x reader #midorima x reader #hanamiya makoto x reader #hanamiya x reader #knb scenarios #knb imagines #knb #kuroko no basket #.𖥔 ݁ ˖ kaiijo writes

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blackhairedjjun · 3 months

Text

rebound and restoration

pairing: choi yeonjun x fem reader | genre / tropes: angst -> fluff, friends to lovers, post-breakup, non-idol au; ft. soobin + mentions of the rest of txt; reader is yeonjun's age (soobin calls reader "noona") | word count: 5.4k | warnings: post-breakup heartbreak, profanity, food, kissing

additional note: fic is mostly written but contains a few texts

summary: with his heart still aching after just getting dumped, yeonjun turns to you, one of his closest friends, for comfort. that is, until he kisses you - and your friendship starts to change.

author's notes: honestly i feel like if i don't post this soon i'll be dissatisfied with it forever and edit it endlessly and it'll never get past my drafts LOL perfect is the enemy of done!! anyway i wrote this while i was feeling stressed and insane during the holidays and wanted... an angsty kiss for whatever reason. lmao yeah

(support by reblogging banner by @cafekitsune)

when yeonjun arrives at your apartment, it’s still early in the evening; the two bowls of pho you ordered for takeout are still hot, and you’ve left your laptop open at a selection of cheesy netflix rom-coms. perhaps the selection is a bit ironic, but you mused that the feel-good escapism is just what he needs.

he pulls you into a hug and you give him an extra squeeze and a few pats on the back. you can’t help but ruffle his hair a little as he pulls away.

“hey, jjun...”

“y/n!”

“how are you feeling?”

“ah, a bit better, i think.”

he gives you a slight smile, and you’re too relieved to notice that it doesn’t quite reach his eyes. it’s a miracle to you that he’s even smiling again two weeks after his breakup. you still remember the cracks in his voice when he called you after it had happened, the rims of his eyes red with crying when he finally crashed at your place half an hour later. that night you held him tight as he told the story to you in between sobs: hana had broken up with him over a call that lasted less than a minute. she was bored and tired of him and just stopped caring, she said, if he were a toy she could throw away if she didn’t want to play with it anymore.

you swallowed back the anger in your throat back then, though you couldn’t help the tears of your own that fell. now you push the anger back down again as you lead yeonjun to the small table at your kitchenette, one of the bowls of pho steaming in front of him. now is not the time for indignation; your friend needed comfort, and it’s comfort you will give.

yeonjun’s eyes light up at the sight of the pho. your heart swells, and you don’t hold it against him when he sits down ahead of you and picks up his chopsticks, ready to dig in. in between slurps he grins like he’s just received the best present of his life. “this is so good!” he said in between mouthfuls of noodles. “it’s been way too long since i had this.”

“i know! feels like we haven’t had this in ages.”

“remember when we tried to make our own?”

“oh god, not that!” you laugh, dropping your chopsticks. “we got impatient and that broth tasted like nothing.”

“your kitchen smelled like ginger though,” yeonjun recalls with a giggle. “it was nice visiting for a while.”

“my kitchen smelled like ginger more than the actual broth, jjun.”

“maybe we can try again one of these days? and if we mess up, at least you’ll have a nice-smelling kitchen again.”

all you can do in response is laugh, and for a moment you forget that you stopped having pho nights together when hana entered his life.

he fills you in on video game night with soobin and kai, shopping with beomgyu, and his so-called revenge gym day with taehyun; he beams with pride while describing his new weight record just as much as he does when talking about managing a hard-earned victory over soobin at tekken. you laugh along with him, knowing that his friends blocked out their schedules just to comfort him for a day. and when you talk about your new project at work and the new books you bought yourself as a treat, his eyes fill with that indescribable look you’ve seen before. you can’t quite place what it is, but it reminds you of afternoon light, of summer days, of lingering hugs after a long day together.

you don’t need to ask for yeonjun to help you clear out the table and pick up the snacks you set aside for your movie, and you make no effort to resist. there are no words exchanged: he simply places all the disposable pho bowls and chopsticks together, and you reach for a clean garbage bag and put them all in. the only communication between you is a shared look and a nod.

perhaps it’s just your imagination, but that look lingers a little longer than you’re used to, and you can’t help but give him a satisfied smile.

you’ve seen him look at hana that way, too many times to count, especially during that early-dating phase when the thrill of emotions was still high. you wondered what it was like to be on the receiving end of that gaze, for yeonjun to look at you as if you were the most precious thing in the world. and you wondered if hana really was that precious 一 if she were just as precious to him as you, his best friend, if not more so.

you let yeonjun select the movie. at first you doubt your idea to present him with rom-coms, of all things, but you let out a sigh of relief when he happily chooses one of them. both of you have seen this one many times over, but you don’t mind. there’s comfort in knowing that a happy ending is guaranteed to happen.

the two of you are slouched on your couch together, the laptop balanced on a pillow between the both of you. yeonjun sits close to you, an arm around your shoulder, a gesture that he hasn’t done with you since he started dating. you let yourself lean against him (so that you can see the screen better, you tell yourself). the two of you start a running commentary on the movie 一 “why would he say that?!” “aww, they look so cute together,” “oh god, that was so stupid!” 一 and both of your laughter fills the apartment, the sound like a duet in harmony.

it’s so easy this way, you think 一 just you and your best friend in your own little corner of the world. you steal a glance at yeonjun while he’s absorbed in the final confession scene, a soft smile on his lips and his eyes gleaming with anticipation for the big kiss. a string of memories flash before you before you can help yourself.

“she said yes,” he says, his whole face flush with excitement. “she said she’ll be mine.”

his hands are on your shoulders and he gives them a gentle squeeze. “there’s no way hana can’t like you. you’re one of my best friends, i’ll make sure you get along.”

“i think hana’s mad at me,” he tells you as he fiddles with the beanie in his hands. “but don’t worry about it, we’ll talk it out, i promise.”

his head is in his hands as you sit across him from a restaurant booth. “i don’t know what i did wrong, she looked so bored through the whole date...”

you hold him close as he sobs in your arms, his whole body shaking. “sh-she said she’s... tired of me…”

“y/n?”

you snap back to reality as yeonjun glances at you, his head tilted. the ending credits of the movie have started to play. “are you okay?”

“i-i’m fine.” you reach out to touch his cheek, then hesitate. “are you okay?”

“i’m fine, y/n.” he picks up on the meaning of your words. “i know i looked really bad that night, but i’m getting better, i promise.”

“good.” your eyes meet his, and your cheeks grow warm. “we can have nights like this as many times as you want until you feel better, okay?”

“yeah, i know. i missed having nights like this, actually.”

“me too. i really liked it when we did this all the time...”

“i know. i’m sorry. hana didn’t like一”

“hey.” your hand comes up again and this time, you gently hold on to his cheek. “it doesn’t matter what she thinks anymore.”

“y/n... i’m really sorry. i feel like i neglected you, and you’ve been my friend for so long...”

tears form in his eyes, and you feel them warm against his cheek. you wipe them away with your thumb as you move closer to him. he continues to ramble as you do.

“i feel like an idiot. like a total dumbass.” the pitch of his voice begins to rise. “god, i was so convinced that hana and i were the perfect couple, that we’d be happy. i-i thought about her more than she d-did about me, y/n, and i stopped hanging out with you一 when you’ve always一”

“jjun, please don’t apologize anymore,” you say, your voice trembling. “i’ve never been mad at you over her, not even once. i just want you to feel better, okay? i... i just want to see you be yourself again.”

you want to see the yeonjun you’ve always loved.

you’ve lain awake at night wondering if he’s ever sensed your feelings for him, and if he’s ever felt the same way. on the day he told you that he and hana were officially together, you spent that night sobbing in your bed, convinced that your friend would never see you as a lover. and yet you said nothing of that night, and of other nights similar to it, because you told yourself that if hana made him happy, then you would be happy too.

and now you want more than anything to see him happy again.

yeonjun says nothing, but instead places a hand on top of the one you have resting on his cheek. you feel it trembling, but you don’t resist as he grasps your hand to intertwine his fingers with yours. he swallows hard to push back the rest of his tears, and his eyes soften. once again there’s that indescribable look of his that makes you feel light.

“y/n...”

he says your name softly, as if in reverence. his face inches closer to yours and you don’t pull away; instead you feel lighter than ever, your gaze falling to his lips as your eyes flutter shut. everything that follows feels slow, gentle; his nose brushing against yours, then your lips on his.

he kisses you slowly at first, but as you kiss him back you fill with a new fervor, wrapping your arms around his neck and letting him wrap his arms around your waist to pull your body flush against his. warmth blooms in your chest, and every movement of yours betrays your feeling: your lips moving against his, your hands making their way into his hair. you want to kiss him until the pain he feels has been replaced by the love you have for him 一 i love you, i love you, i love you.

you’re completely absorbed in him and let out a soft sigh when yeonjun snaps out of it 一 he breaks apart from you, breathing hard, eyes wide as he’s hit by what he’s just done.

“shit, y/n一” he gets off the couch, one hand running through his hair over and over again. “i’m so sorry. fuck, i shouldn’t have done that一”

you’re snapped out of your trance as you stand up to chase after him. “jjun, hey, wait! listen to me—”

he’s picking up his bag from the foot of your couch. he can’t even look at you, instead occasionally letting out a shit or two under his breath.

“yeonjun, please一”

you stand in front of him to block his way from the exit. at first his head is bowed, avoiding your gaze, but when he finally looks up his expression is solemn.

“you are not a rebound to me,” he says at last. “please don’t ever think that i just used you to make me feel better.”

“i never accused you of that! look, i’m sorry too, it was my fa一”

“i’m really sorry, but i can’t stay here anymore. i’ll make it up to you, y/n, i promise.”

“wait一”

yeonjun walks past you and before you can protest any further, he’s out your door. you push it open and try to chase after him, but after a few steps you stop, thinking better of it. what would stopping him even do?

you walk back inside and slump back down on the couch. the screen of your laptop faintly glows, and a half-eaten bag of chips has fallen to the floor. all at once the reality of what happens sinks into you: the kiss, his words, his departure.

you are not a rebound to me. the words echo in your mind.

a strange tension fills you, and you can’t even tell what emotion it’s supposed to be from: confusion, frustration, anxiety. with your whole body seemingly on edge, you grab a throw pillow from the opposite side of your couch and press it into your face.

you sob into it the tension crashes down on you in full force.

一

for the next few nights the scene replays in your dreams: yeonjun leaning in ever closer towards you, your lips meeting his in a fervent kiss 一 each night’s dream-kiss more fervent than the last 一 and him suddenly pulling away. you awaken each time just as he breaks the kiss, the shock and confusion coursing through you again, and immediately after you reach for your bedside table to check your phone.

still no text from yeonjun.

you consider texting him again, but each time you type a new message you erase it, the blinking cursor driving you mad. how would you even know what to say? do you want to apologize? to beg for his forgiveness? to ask if you can still be friends?

you hate to admit it, but every morning you lie in bed for a few moments more to allow the dream to sink in. the look on yeonjun’s face appears vivid to you, from his eyes blown wide to his mouth slightly agape. your mind travels back to the moment he breaks the kiss, as if a sudden force pushed him away, the shock of it hitting you. then it wanders to the kiss itself, the feeling of his lips soft against your own, his arms warm as they hold you by the waist…

you shake the memory away, drag yourself out of bed, and continue on with your routine: breakfast, shower, get dressed. you resist the urge to check your phone for as long as you can. you stare at the little contact photo you set of yeonjun and remind yourself: you’re his friend. you need to help him heal.

you recount your worries to soobin over snacks one day.

“i feel like i’m being selfish,” you say in between munches of potato chips. “he hasn’t even moved on from hana”— soobin winces at the acridity you mutter her name with—“and now one of his closest friends kisses him like she’s madly in love. how is he supposed to move on? he’s hurting enough as it is.”

soobin sets aside the bag of chips you just finished. he rubs his face with his hands as he tries to choose his words carefully.

“you’re not being selfish, noona. you sound like you’re trying to be careful so that you don’t hurt him,” he says at last. “and yeonjun hyung feels just as bad about it. he feels bad that he even started the kiss, and for making you feel like a rebound. you two sound like each other, to be honest.”

“i know he feels bad, it’s just 一 i don’t know how that will fix...” you wave your hands wildly in the air, “this.”

“you can start by talking to each other?”

“he didn’t reply to my last texts. and i… i don’t know if i should text him again.”

a moment of silence. soobin opens a pack of candy and chews on it, just to give himself time to think. he fiddles with his phone as he does, absentmindedly scrolling through his old texts, when one of them catches his eye.

“so, there’s this new restaurant that beomgyu wants to check out.”

“really, soobin, what does this have to—”

“he was thinking of inviting all of us there to hang out,” he continues. “including you and yeonjun hyung. we can plan for it a week or two from now so that you have space? and then you can get used to talking to him again there. if things get awkward, i can ask beomgyu to fill in.”

you purse your lips. “i dunno, i might cry if i see his face again.”

“if you don’t feel like it, just call in sick.” soobin’s mouth twitches into a small grin as he says it — you know he’s used that excuse to get away from social situations he doesn’t want to be in. now you’re starting to see the appeal of it.

“okay. i’ll think about it.”

—

ultimately you do decide to go, and two weeks later you’re the first to arrive at the restaurant. you can feel your hands trembling as you push the door open and your heart hammering in your chest. in your head you’ve prepared what you want to say to yeonjun and you mentally rehearse your words for the hundredth time.

you slide right into the booth and take a deep breath. you check your phone to keep yourself busy, letting yourself calm down until your hands have stopped shaking. as you’re scrolling through your camera roll looking at some memes beomgyu sent you, someone slides into the booth seat opposite yours.

“hey, y/n.”

yeonjun gives you a shy smile and the nervousness in your stomach kicks into overdrive. he looks much better now; the bags under his eyes have lessened, and his smile seems genuine. still, you can’t help but remember the last time you saw him, and you shudder.

he sees your reaction and winces, averting his gaze. when he speaks, his voice is soft. “y/n... are we okay?”

the question breaks you and whatever words you have prepared fly out of your mind. as you try to grasp at them again, tears prick at your eyes.. “yeah... yeah, we’re okay,” you say. you take a gulp of water to hold back the tears. “i was never mad at you, jjun, i’ve been worried out of my mind一”

“i’m sorry i never replied to your texts.” he places his hands atop your trembling ones. “i just felt so ashamed that i didn’t know how to face you.”

“and i’m sorry i never tried texting you again, i just didn’t know what you thought of me, and i was so scared that i lost you...”

“i was so scared that i lost you.”

you sniffle. “that makes both of us then. god, we were so stupid.”

“i missed you, y/n.”

“i missed you too, jjun.”

you let out a laugh of relief and he laughs too. with the sound of his laughter melding with yours, everything else seems to melt away: the tears in your eyes, the other noises of the restaurant, the baggage of the last two weeks. sitting before you is your old friend, holding onto your hand to comfort you, laughing together with you just like you always have.

and just as always, you want nothing more than for your friend to be happy.

“so,” you begin, giving him the most reassuring smile that you can muster, “let’s start over?”

yeonjun glances down at the table, but you can see his eyes crinkling as they usually do when he smiles. “yeah, let’s do that.”

when beomgyu enters the restaurant right afterwards, all it takes is one glance at the scene before him to understand what happened. he turns his head towards you, meeting your gaze, and you give him a nod.

it’s going to be okay.

一

the kiss becomes an unspoken part of your history together, never mentioned and never acknowledged. you stop searching for hidden meanings to it, and instead settle on the explanation that it was simply a spur-of-the-moment reaction from pent-up post-breakup emotions. it doesn’t matter to you whether or not this explanation is true; it’s the explanation that gives you the most peace of mind, and that’s what matters. as the days pass, you think of it less and less, and eventually it is filed away in your memory, like a book never checked out of the library collecting dust.

in the meantime, you pour your energy into rebuilding both your friendship with yeonjun as well as his fragile heart. the first few hangouts with just the two of you are awkward with a tinge of melancholy, with conversations feeling a little too short. fortunately, your shared friends are there to help: you and yeonjun are invited to video game nights at soobin’s, or a cute new cafe that kai wants to check out, or just a walk around the park. the silences feel less awkward when it’s quickly filled by a joke from beomgyu or witty remark from taehyun.

from time to time you see the shine in yeonjun’s eyes disappear, even for just a moment, when he encounters something that reminds him of “the ‘h’ word” (as beomgyu refers to her): a park bench where they had a date, or a dress on a passerby that looks a lot like something she would wear. sometimes one of his friends would recognize it and quickly divert his attention elsewhere. soon those diversions occur less and less often as fewer and fewer things remind yeonjun of her.

but things don’t truly feel normal to you until a month and a half later. your project at work has gone well, and yeonjun has completed the first draft of a mixtape he’s making. just as you muse to yourself that a reward would be nice, your phone buzzes.

that afternoon you and yeonjun stroll down the shopping district a few minutes away from his house, trying on this and that. it isn’t long before you find yourself spending over your budget; it’s hard not to when yeonjun is constantly egging you to buy something you really want. “c’mon, y/n,” he whines as you put back another cute button-down on the rack. “you deserve it! you can wear it to work for the next phase of your project!”

he giggles when he sees your eyes light up at his words. “we do have another presentation for it,” you muse.

still, you draw the line when you spot an elegant tan jacket worn by one of the storefront mannequins. you stare at it longingly as if you’ve found your soulmate, and yeonjun sweet-talks you into entering the shop and trying it on. but when you see the hefty price tag on it, you sigh.

“i can’t justify this, jjun…”

“but you look great in it! and you want it so much. you’ll feel worse if you don’t get it.”

“maybe…” you glance down at the shopping bags in your hand. “i dunno, i’ve spent so much already.”

you sigh in defeat and turn back to the store exit before you can second-guess yourself. yeonjun doesn’t follow immediately, but instead watches you go as he lingers a bit longer.

later that day, the two of you sort through all the things you bought (mostly clothes and accessories, but also a vinyl for yeonjun and a novel for yourself) in between giggles and wide eyes and a shower of compliments. yeonjun puts on a completely new outfit for you and struts down his apartment like a runway model, and he pulls you up from the floor to do the same. soon you’re laughing and clapping at each other’s performances, and yeonjun even whips out his phone to take photos of each other’s best looks.

as you rummage through your haul for one more outfit to assemble, your eyes land on a familiar spot of tan fabric. your mouth falls open when you pull it out and see that jacket — the one you’re pretty sure you didn’t buy. you glance up at yeonjun and he licks his lips before forming a mischievous grin.

“jjun, is this...”

“it’s yours.”

“you didn’t have to一”

“i saw the way you were looking at it, y/n. i just had to get it for you. c’mon, put it on.”

hesitantly, you take off the jacket you’re already wearing and put on the new one. it fits perfectly, just a little loose to let air flow in, and you love how it frames your figure. yeonjun is still smiling at you, but it’s a different smile. he looks at you as if you’ve transformed in front of him.

“you look really pretty,” he says. “let me take a few pics, okay?”

he snaps a few photos of you and you pose for the camera, and a comforting warmth settles over you. if this happened a few months earlier, you would have blushed and your heart would be doing somersaults, but now all you feel is a light flutter. everything feels fit in, like the final piece of a puzzle slotting into place.

you lock eyes with yeonjun as he takes the last photo and puts his phone away. as you whisper “thank you” to him, the gleam in his eyes is reflected in your own. there it is, that indecipherable look of his that makes you feel warm.

you still love him 一 there’s a part of you that still knows that. but over the last month and a half you’ve simply learned to live with your feelings, letting them fill you with lightness for a few moments and then letting them go. feelings or not, you’re just glad to have yeonjun in your life again. even as a friend, his presence is a soothing balm against the stresses of life.

一

months later, yeonjun is sprawled on your couch again, his head on your shoulder as you scroll through your list of rom-coms on your laptop. at one point the two of you resumed your pho and rom-com nights, and you’re glad for it; few things give you as much comfort after a long week of work.

after scrolling back and forth a few times, you pause on the same movie you’ve always watched together and give him a quick look. he simply smiles.

“don’t you get sick of this one?” you ask.

“not really, the ending always feels nice. are you… tired of it?”

“no no, i— i was worried that you’re tired of it.”

“me? never.”

“perfect, ‘cause i’m not either.” you give him a knowing grin and press play.

at this point you both know this movie so well that you recite along to every line. you do the female lead’s lines, yeonjun does the male lead’s, and you even sing along to the soundtrack. yeonjun stretches out on your couch even more, his head ending up in your lap, and in the movie’s quiet moments you find yourself playing with his hair. when the big confession happens you can feel him holding his breath and then releasing it in a laugh when the two leads finally kiss.

the credits roll and he glances up at you, smiling in satisfaction. you smile too and hum along to the end credits song. as the movie ends, you let yourself bask in it: you stretch out your arms, yeonjun sits up to lean on your shoulder again, and you lay your head atop his. the two of you remain like that for a while, sitting in comfortable silence.

“don’t you ever get jealous of them?” you ask.

you feel his head shake a bit as he chuckles. “i hate to admit it, but yeah. rom-coms always make getting together look so... fun.”

“right? i wish my life was like that.”

“god, me too.”

“i swear, it drives me insane,” you huff. “every time i watch this i want to start dating again or something.”

a few more moments of silence. yeonjun lets out a soft exhale and you feel his body grow tense. the air in your apartment seems stuffier.

“speaking of which, i have to tell you something.”

“me...?”

you’ve never heard yeonjun sound so solemn. his head weighs down on your shoulder. “y’know, i’ve been uh... thinking of dating again.”

“oh... where are you dating this time? did beomgyu set you up again?”

he shakes his head, looks up at you for a split second, then looks down at his hands. you see the tips of his ears turn pink.

“actually, i... i have someone mind. someone i want to ask out, i mean.”

with those words the feelings you’ve brushed aside for so long come back in full force. your heart beats so hard it feels like it’s slamming into your chest. when you speak, your voice shakes.

“oh... who’s the lucky one?”

“i-i’ve known her for a while. she’s sweet and fun to be around... we’ve been hanging out a lot more often these last few months. we get along really well, at least i think we do...”

“sounds like you have chemistry with this special girl,” you say, the words heavy on your tongue. the hammering of your heart floods your ears. “so what’s stopping you from asking her out?”

yeonjun sits up to face you fully. you sense the effort it takes for him to look at you 一 has he ever been like this around you before? 一 and you reach for his hands. they’re trembling, and his ears go from pink to red.

“a long time ago,” he starts, voice shaking, “i kissed her. i kissed her after my last breakup. and i wasn’t thinking straight, i was just so lonely that i wanted to be loved again 一 but i can’t do that to yo— to her, she’s one of my best friends, i don’t want yo— her to be a rebound 一 but then you said we could start over so we did and i dunno, at one point i started liking you, i fell so hard i don’t know wh一”

you interrupt him with a kiss, your lips gentle on his. you feel him kissing you back, his movements gentle as his hand comes up to hold your head in place. you find yourself pressed against him and he’s even warmer than you remember, warmer than those dreams you had so many months ago.

when you break apart, his eyes are glazed over in a look of pure admiration.

“y/n...”

“jjun, i...” heat spreads across your face. “i’ve loved you for years.”

“then why didn’t you say anything?”

“how could i? what if you didn’t feel that way and it ruined our friendship? and with all the other guys too?” your heart is still beating fast but you let out the words while your boldness still has a hold on you. “and then you dated hana and i cried but i wanted you to be happy 一 then you broke up and you kissed me and i liked it, and i hated myself for liking it because you were 一”

yeonjun pulls you into him, arms encircling you, and as you keep rambling into his chest he soothes you with one hand combing through your hair. his other arm grips you firmly, and your own arms find a firm hold around his neck.

“i love you too, y/n,” he whispers into your hair before leaving a kiss there. “it’s okay.”

“i love you, so much...”

he pulls apart to get a good look at your face. as he sees a few tears start to roll down your cheeks, he brushes them aside with his thumb.

“so this girl,” he says, affection lacing his words, “after we kissed, she said we could start over. and we did. and i’m really glad we did, because i fell for h一 for you so hard.”

you lean your head forward so that your forehead touches his. “really?”

“really. and i...”

“do you want to kiss her again?”

yeonjun’s breath hitches and his eyes meet yours. there it is 一 that same look of his that makes you feel light. the one that, you realize, makes you feel loved.

“can i?”

“please,” you whisper.

he closes the gap between your lips and his, and this time you feel only relief and bliss.

#txt x reader #yeonjun x reader #txt x you #yeonjun x you #choi yeonjun x reader #kpop x reader #txt imagines #kpop imagines #yeonjun imagines #txt angst #txt fluff #yeonjun angst #yeonjun fluff #tomorrow x together imagines #txt fic #txt fanfic #bhj originals

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willieverseetheland · 3 months

Text

jingle bells.

spencer reid x fem!reader summary: spencer gets a little too tipsy at the office christmas party.

WARNINGS: alcohol consumption, language, spencer being a dork

fluff, mutual pining, friends to lovers

I know christmas has been over, I just felt inspired.

wc: 1.4k

You've always loved Christmas. It wasn't the holiday itself; it was how it brought people together. Everything just feels so cozy and bright. So when Penelope asked you to help her decorate for the party, you were more than happy to do so.

Although your job can be very depressing at times, the office environment is truly amazing. Everyone is so kind. You couldn't ask for better coworkers. However, there's one fellow profiler you've grown rather close with these past few months.

Spencer Reid was one of the first people you became friends with at the BAU, other than Penelope of course. He's such a good friend, and always seems to be genuinely interested in what you have to say. He notices the little things, like when you were always complaining about your feet being cold, so he bought you fuzzy socks. Or when he overheard you talking to Emily about how badly you wanted this decorative plate set for your new apartment, and he got it for you for your birthday. He's truly the best friend a girl could ever ask for. But recently you've been wondering if it's only platonic love that you feel. Could it be more than friendship? You find yourself putting extra effort into your appearance, but you just chalk it up to wanting to better yourself. You have also noticed how when you shop, you choose clothes you think he might like.

Sometimes you catch yourself wondering if he feels the same way. Does he lie in bed at night thinking of your voice and laughter the way you think of him? Does he get flustered when your knees brush together during debriefs? Does he get that fluttery feeling in his stomach when you lock eyes from across the room?

Now that you're thinking about it, you really fucking like him. You feel like a teenager with a schoolgirl crush. God, how could you let this happen? You know that co-worker relationships rarely work out. But you're an adult, you can be mature about it, right?

You snap out of your daydream and realize its already 6:00. The party starts in an hour, and you only have a quarter of what you need to do done.

"Hey Penelope, think we could get some Christmas music going? I work faster with music playing!"

"It's like you read my mind y/n!"

The sound of bells fills the room and suddenly you find yourself feeling very festive. You hear Penelope humming along.

You work quickly to get the last of the lights and tinsel strung up. You wish it could look like this year-round. You check your watch. 6:53. Everyone should be arriving soon.

You hear the elevator ding and see Derek walk out with a plate full of what is most definitely store-bought cookies.

"Wow, you ladies really outdid yourselves."

"Hello Derek and thank you" you smile.

People begin to arrive one-by-one. Emily, JJ, Hotch, and Rossi. Everyone says their hellos and get settled. Some make their way to the booze faster than others.

It's 7:25 and Spencer isn't here yet. You feel a pit begin to form in your stomach. You were really hoping to see him tonight. You decide to grab yourself a drink and socialize, take your mind off of him. He'll show up eventually, right?

"Y/N! Hey! Where's your other half?" Emily chuckles and raises her eyebrows. You can tell she snuck a few shots in the elevator.

"I assume you mean Spencer. Not sure actually." So much taking your mind off of him. And what did she mean by other half? It's not that obvious right?

You scan the room, hoping to see Spencer, but you don't. However, you do catch Rossi getting rather comfortable with new forensic photographer.

You finish your drink and wander off to get another. Looking at your watch you see that it's 7:47. You're starting to feel a little hopeless. But right as you turn to rejoin the party, you see him. Those big brown eyes and fluffy hair.

"Hey Y/N, sorry I'm late. I had to go pick up some last-minute gifts."

Weight falls off of your shoulders at the sound of his voice. You feel overwhelming relief now that he's here. You had spent the last hour, or at least what felt like an hour, with your jaw clenched and a heavy feeling in your stomach. You hate feeling this way. You know you need to talk to him, but you don't want to screw up a good thing.

"It's alright Spence, I'm just glad you're here now." You give him a warm smile and place your hand on his shoulder.

He gives you his classic dorky smile in return, and you feel those all too familiar butterflies swell in your stomach.

As the night goes on, the wine flows and sounds of laughter fills the room. You stay by Spencer's side practically the whole night. Now you understand what Emily meant. You notice he's had quite a bit to drink. Definitely not more than Rossi, but more than usual. You feel like he's being more playful and affectionate as well. But you assume it's just the alcohol. You desperately hope he's flirting, but you don't want to look too far into it.

Your thoughts quickly dissolve into the air as the room goes silent and Rossi's rather loud voice announces it's time to exchange gifts. You give out your gifts and accept the ones given to you. You receive a cinnamon roll scented candle from Emily, a pair of heart shaped earrings from Penelope, a fuzzy blanket from JJ, and various trinkets and gadgets from others. Spencer hands you a slender box wrapped in shiny blue snowflaked wrapping paper.

"I wonder what this could be." You raise your eyebrow playfully and give a small laugh.

You carefully tear off the wrapping paper and open the box. Inside is a necklace with small heart shaped locket.

"Go ahead, open the locket." he has a drunken grin, and his eyes are eager.

You open the locket and inside is a picture of you and Spencer from your birthday. You feel a warmth spread over your face and you can't help but smile.

"Oh my god Spencer, this is- thank you so much, really." You pull him into a tight embrace. Relishing in the feeling of his arms around you for just a moment. You pull away, smile faltering slightly.

"Would you walk with me? Outside? It's really warm in here." His eyes are glassy and his cheeks are a rosy pink. His drinks have definitely caught up with him now. No wonder he feels warm.

"Of course, are you feeling okay?" you ask with sincerity.

"Yeah, there's just a lot of noise. Just need some fresh air s'all."

You two slip out into the crisp, December night. The sky's clear so you can see the stars. Your breath creates mini clouds in the night air.

You look over at Spencer and wonder what's going on inside that brilliant brain of his. You've always been so fascinated by the way he thinks.

"You look so beautiful right now. I-I mean you always do, but in this moment you..." his voice trails off like he has more to say, but doesn't know if he should say it.

"You don't look too bad yourself." You let out a quiet laugh.

You can hear carolers singing jingle bells in the distance.

You glance up at him and see that he's looking at you. His eyes reflect the full moon. There's a sadness in his eyes but also an admiring, soft expression.

"y/n."

"Yeah, Spencer?" You place your hand on his forearm. His mouth opens and closes slightly like he doesn't know if he should say what he's about to say.

"I love you. I'm in love with you, y/n." his voice is soft and trembling ever so slightly. His eyes jump across your face, searching for a reaction.

You feel like your brain might short circuit. You're overwhelmed with emotion. You feel a sting as your eyes prick up with tears.

"Spencer, I don't know what to say." You see his smile fade and fear that may have been poor choice of words.

You decide maybe words won't do how you feel justice.

You step closer to him, placing your right hand on his cheek and the left just below his jaw. You breathe in deeply and pull his face to yours. You place a soft kiss on his lips. He then grabs the sides of your face deepening the kiss. You feel heat creeping up your neck, and the whole world feels as though it's melting away.

You pull away, catching your breath. He looks starstruck, like he can't believe what just happened. And honestly, you can't either. You almost want to ask him to pinch you.

"I love you too, Dr. Spencer Reid."

#criminal minds #spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #fanfiction #fanfic writing #dr spencer reid #criminal minds fanfiction #spencer reid fanfiction

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jkslipppiercing · 4 months

Text

So show me | Part 1 | jjk

♡ summary: your boyfriend has always been a fan of PDA, unlike you.

♡ genre: angsty, not really fluffy, a lot of frustration, miscommunication

♡ pairing: boyfriend!jk, frustrated!jk, whipped!jk

♡ warnings: oc is self-conscious, both of them are severely frustrated, not much in this lol, little bit of cursing, y/n is super horny, suggestive content.

♡ WC: 2.5K.

♡ a/n: well hello again! i'm back lol. this is the first part of the "show me" series! i hope you like it <333 this is my first go at angst, and im trying to ease myself into it 😭😭 i have zero clue as to what im doing please help <3

▪︎ general taglist

▪︎ index

▪︎ previous/next

enjoy!!

"That'll be $22.50."

You smile sweetly at the cashier, opening your purse to pay.

Handing over the money with a grin, you thank her.

"Can I get it gift-wrapped, please? That would be great."

Christmas is about a week away, and the holiday vibes are clear as stockings and ornaments hang on every wall of the store. Decorated christmas trees shine with bright colorful lights and the festivity of the shop you're in makes you feel warm on the inside, in addition to the amazing smell of cinnamon.

On that note...why does it smell so good in here?

Christmas has always been your favorite holiday, multiple reasons why. one of the many is spending time with your loved ones...and buying them gifts.

Something about seeing them so happy just makes you feel happier by ten-fold.

The cashier smiles in return before she nods, holding the item as she turns her back to you and starts wrapping.

Meanwhile, you take the time to admire the little details of every single decoration-taking it all in- just when you feel a presence behind you.

Jungkook steps close, engulfing you in a tight embrace and humming softly. You welcome the feeling of security, humming back at his body warmth as he back-hugs you.

"Hey baby."

you giggle. "Hi."

"You done shopping?" He asks from above you, his chin pressing into the tip of your head. He had drifted off earlier on and left you to do your shopping, telling you to call for him if you needed any help.

"Yep. I asked for gift wrapping. Should be done in a few."

"Mmm, good."

Jungkook hums, dipping his head down. he inches towards your neck, resting into the crook of it and humming in a deeper- more suggestive- manner.

The sole sound has you kind of- blushing? Even though your cheeks never got that red, your eyes water and your breath hitches. You call it 'blushing' in your book.

He always does that kind of hum when you're doing a good job pleasing him...stuffing his cock-

His hands that were once wrapped around your arms and trapping you now release, only to circle around your waist instead, this time more intimately.

You love these kinds of moments, though you can't help but notice that the cashier is almost done wrapping your gift.

You find your eyes glued to her movements, almost anxious.

Jungkook's hand inshes dangerously close to your tit, and you grow slightly self-conscious in response, eyes still set strictly on the cashier's hands.

Her seeing you and your boyfriend in this situation would be kind of...awkward?

It's not that you don't appreciate the affection, you've just been more of a private person. Always loved to show love when alone, but never been a fan to do so publicly.

Jungkook, though? If PDA (Public Display of Affection) was a person? It would definitely be him.

Trying to voice out your thoughts, you whisper to him.

"Jungkook."

"Hm?" Again, that oh-so-beautifully-deep hum.

Fuck.

He snuggles his head even deeper into the crook of your neck, making it harder for you to think.

"We're in public."

He raises his head a tad bit, so you can hear him better.

"We're the only people here."

"Still, the employee could find it uncomfortable-"

"Are you uncomfortable?"

You're not.

You love jungkook.

Of course you're not uncomfortable.

You just care about people's opinions...a little too much.

Privacy is your thing, and you've always stuck to it- making sure not to make anybody feel a certain type of-

"Oh."

When you take too long to respond, your bad habit of overthinking the simplist of things pulling you under, jungkook's arms slip and waver.

He stays silent.

Jungkook was never silent.

He completely untangles and detaches himself from you.

"That's not-" You try to explain yourself, but the cashier beats you to it as they turn around and walk over to you.

"Here you go."

You accept the neatly wrapped box and thank her, rushing to leave. Your breath catches in your throat when you see jungkook already through the exit of the store.

You fucked up.

---

Under any other circumstances, you would've welcomed the pitter patter of the rain against the car's surface with wide, open arms.

But instead, you want to shrink; let the world split in half and swallow you whole.

Jungkook hasn't said a single word since you've left that store.

He went straight to his car, waited for you, then directly drove off as soon as you got into the car with him.

Not. A single. Word.

You observe him, taking note of how automatic- distant- his actions are. With one hand on the steering wheel, he rests the other on the armrest as he stares straight ahead. It's like he can feel your gaze burning a hole to the side of his face, but he's numb to the heat. Your eyes beg his own to look, but his are deaf...far; so far away.

You shouldn't have stayed quiet.

Mentally groaning at your stupidity, you lean your head against the window.

The rest of the ride home is silent.

---

"Jungkook."

No answer.

"You can't keep ignoring me like this."

Well, he can.

He proves that to you when he lets the barbell join the floor with a hard thud.

Only a small grunt of triumph escapes him, but otherwise; silence.

He hasn't spoken to you.

He parked the car under your apartment building- in its usual spot- exiting the car and heading to your home.

-silently.

He entered the apartment and left the door open for you, changed into his usual workout attire, and headed into his personal gym.

-silently.

It has been an hour since he's been in here, not sparing any effort to check on you.

You're getting quite frustrated with him. It's just- unreasonable.

He has his reasons for acting this way- you'll give him that- but where'd all the communication go?

You've been with Jungkook for well over a year now, and it feels weird; whatever this is. It hasn't ever happened before, probably because a similar situation has never occured.

You'd always hold hands in public, and it was never a problem for you.

But as a first real relationship...guess you were growing self-conscious about it.

What if they saw?

Will they speak?

Your train of thought cuts off as the sulking man grunts again, this time louder; intended to grasp your attention back to him.

He must've seen you zoning out.

"Enough, Jungkook."

Your words leave a tangy taste on your tongue. You really don't want to argue with him what-so-ever, but this is ridiculous.

he's being ridiculous.

You two could've talked it out to figure what the problem was- you should.

Instead, you're running after a person that keeps looking back to make sure you're still there.

He wants you to feel like you're genuinely being ignored, which is just- again- unreasonable.

Okay, the earlier...incident hurt him a little bit- and maybe a little more than that- that much is evident.

Jungkook merely scoffs at your words,

yet again ignoring you.

Fucking hell,

he's actually pissing you off.

"Giving me the silent treatment?" Your eyes sharpen with challenge, and his own light up with one of their own.

He leaves whatever he was doing to cross his arms and properly stare you down, almost belittling you- no, not almost, he is.

You've always known just how much Jungkook loves a challenge.

"Fine by me." Your smile is so sweet- but it's wrong. It's not the kind of smile he's used to.

And with that, you exit the gym, grab a random book, make yourself a cup of coffee, and prepare yourself for the long night ahead.

---

It's been...two hours.

Two long hours of utter torture.

And you've read a total of five pages.

Dammit.

Instead of reading, you're embarrassed to admit how instensely you've been ogling him for two hours straight.

He's just so hot.

The way he lifts weights like they're nothing.

The way his groans and grunts fill up the quiet space- and the whole entirety of your thoughts, leading them to other, much more sexual, places.

The way those exact sounds resemble the ones he's likely to make during sex.

You can basically feel your underwear sticking to you, your arousal evident.

For the first time since you've sat on this bench, stubbornly so, with your book and cup of coffee, he flicks a gaze over you.

Indifferently.

It makes your blood boil.

Your eyes lock.

his cold,

yours set ablaze by intense emotions of frustration.

You rip your gaze away from him to set it on your book, only to look back up at him two seconds later.

He slings a towel over his shoulder, grabs a bottle of water and unscrews the lid.

gently placing the bottle on his lips, he opens his mouth and chugs a mass of water all at once.

He repeats the motion once...twice... and your eyes are glued to the way his adam's apple bobs.

A thick lump forms in your throat, your breaths quickening. Must be...horniness.

You take the chance to properly look at him;

hair ruffled, body hot, muscles bulged.

Theres a slight sheen of sweat highlighting his neck, and a vein pops out from the way he's angling his neck up.

Your senses heighten.

He sets the bottle down, only to turn to you.

You try your best to hide the hormones.

Your eyes then trail down his neck to his collarbones, and you almost drool.

Scratch that, you're definitely drooling.

He looks fucking divine.

Well, of course.

He always does.

He looks as divine as it feels to love him.

You've always loved Jungkook. You still do. From the moment he waltzed into your heart with no foul intention and swept it off its feet, you knew you were absolutely done for.

Wrecked,

Ruined,

No longer containing any available capacity in your whole being to love anyone else.

Anyone but him. Even saying you love him more than you do yourself wouldn't be over-exaggerating...it would be true.

Call it obsession?

So be it.

A subtle scoff turns your attention back to him; body erect and all guarded up, his body language almost makes you tense up yourself.

You know for a damn straight fact that this is going to lead to an unpleasant conversation- even more so an argument- but whatever it is that's sizzling between you two like static electricity needs to die down.

It was never like this.

Tension,

Frustration,

Miscommunication.

"Bold of you to stare at me like that." His eyes never leave yours a second when he speaks.

He locks his hands behind his neck and rests them on his nape. His forearms bulge, and your eyes physically hurt from how hard they're trying not to gape at him.

Knocking his head back, he stares at you through his lashes with hooded lids and the most beautiful dark eyes.

You would've found the sight quite attractive- you do- but the subtle dig aimed at your staring attracts your attention more.

"Better get used to it, then." You stand, maintaining a protective stance yourself.

You're not angry, or...defensive, thought you might be a little shameless.

You just want this to end. For everything to go back to the way it was.

He smirks.

Your eyes harden.

"Oh yeah?" He lazily strides in your direction, and you cross your arms, almost acting nonchalantly.

Your irritation is evident and so is his, but the tension is so heavy on your shoulders, it makes your muscles tense.

His steps shorten until he's only a few feet away.

Not too close,

Not too far,

Yet feels like hundreds of miles apart.

"Wonder where that's coming from."

"Guess you'll have to find out."

This time, it's you who smirks when a sudden spark of challenge ignites in his irises.

"What i'd like to find out," He lowers his voice, his tone calm; in contrast to the dark storm reflecting the thoughts of his mind through dark, fogged up orbs. "...is what the hell on earth it was that happened today."

You stare at him, contemplating your options.

"I felt self-conscious."

The response is quick, but you're satisfied. You want to be completely honest. That's the best way to go at it.

You notice how he blanks out before you look away. Almost like he's fighting with himself over what to think of the response, his eyes portray the most intense feelings of complexity.

Quickly covering the slight feeling of confusion with frustration, his brows tug together, and in another context, you would've found the action to be adorable.

"Self-conscious? About us? What-" He scrambles to understand, and your eyes widen by an inch. "-are you- like- not sure about us? Anymore?"

"What does that have to do with anything?" You directly jump to answer his questions with one of your own. Your own brows join together, and the frustration builds further.

"Fuck, y/n." He gives you his back, walking in the opposite direction.

"What- I didn't even mean it like that!" Your voice raises slightly, purely in expression of desperation.

Why is this so complicated? It wasn't even that big of a deal.

He looks at you over his shoulder, his features bitter.

"How did you mean it then?" He scoffs, but his words come out quiet, serious, and clear of sarcasm. They come out hurt.

"Look- I just-" You take a deep breath, staring at the floor. "I don't want to fight."

You look at his feet, directing your gaze to a place where your mind doesn't feel overwhelmed. When you look at him, you want to look at his eyes, nose, lips...all of him. When you look at him, you see nothing but him. The whole world disappears when you do.

When you look at him,

You can't think about anything but how much you love him.

And right then it's like the whole world stops.

Like it's just you and him, in this gym, with nothing and no one else but each other.

"Fight?" His eyes rage with a thousand different broken emotions all fighting over dominance at once.

He shifts closer to you, only eager to show you the true weight of his love for you.

His index finger hooks under your chin and tilts it up to meet his eyes, only making your breath catch.

"I'd drop to my knees and beg if you wanted me to."

You feel your eyes water. There's nothing you could possibly think to say to him in this moment, except...

"I love you."

He returns a sad smile.

"Show me."

He cups your cheek.

Strokes it with his thumb, once.

Twice.

And in his presence remains a cool gust of air as his touch lingers and leaves a fire awakening.

Just then you realize: the fire that seems to spread further and further is that of love, nestled in between the teeny crooks and tiny nooks of your heart; the wildfire seemingly one of pleasurable pain.

Gone is jungkook, and welcomed is the loneliness as you hear the shower turn on.

@hoseokteardrop @nochuel @kaitieskidmore97 @nays2112 @jksoftii @yu-justme @meadow-in-spring @bunnykoos @looneybleus @fushigurosdarling @alpha-mommy69 @junecat18 @xjiminsthighsx @tanniesdolls @winterbeartaehyungbestboy @whoa-jo @ahgasegotarmy116 @jksusawife @frgetmenotz @baechugff @partyparty-yah @army130613210521 @drugerlime @allisonstone @hopekive @llallaaa @tarahardcore @hopetookmysoul @betysotelo18 @harmonic55 @ecrvea @awesomebabyyoda @peterstarkchrishiddleston @pinkrockstar19 @sweetestseoul @luv--youu @mochminnie @coletaehyung @whitelies2248-blog @ash07128 @bangtans-momma @yourbobaeyestell @laylasbunbunny @btsnpniff @olimpiiaa

hope you liked it! dont hesitate to share your opinion <3

#jeon jungkook #jungkook jeon #jjk #jungkook #bts fanfiction #jungkook ff #jungkook x reader #jungkook fanfic #angst #jungkook angst #jungkook twoshot #twoshot #<3

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gentlyweeps-world · 5 months

Text

Purrfect Christmas Tree

summary: It was finally time to decorate for the Holiday, but with two cats it was a difficult task.

pairing: max verstappen x fem! reader

warning: sexual tension, none

LIGHTS OUT AND AWAY WE GO

“Max are you sure the cats won’t try and knock the ornaments off?” You ask again as you and your boyfriend, Max Verstappen, browse the aisles of the local shop, picking out Christmas decorations for your shared apartment.

"No, of course not. They'll be fine. Besides, they've never done anything like that before." He says in a soothing tone, his arm brushing against yours as you two walk together.

“Alright..” You mumble out, still unsure. You had a Christmas tree last year but did put any ornaments up in fear of the cats ruining them.

“How many more decorations do you want to get?” You ask Max, knowing he secretly likes decorating for Christmas.

"Let's just get a few more, and then we can head home and decorate the tree." He looks at you with a playful smile, his bright eyes sparkling in amusement. You know him well enough to know that he's probably planning on buying as many ornaments as he can find.

You pause and notice that your hand is still brushing his. You smile to yourself, appreciating the soft feel of his skin against yours, and you continue walking together, your fingers interlocking with his.

Soon after everything is bought and put into your car, you arrive back to your apartment and slowly start decorating with Max.

"Can I put some of the ornaments on the tree?" His voice is full of excitement as he holds a bunch of decorations, waiting for your approval. Of course, you can't say no to him so you nod, and he starts to put the baubles on the Christmas tree.

As the two of you work together, laughing at silly jokes and making conversation, you can't help but think about how lucky you are to be spending the holidays with the person you love.

Suddenly, you catch him looking at you from under his eyelashes, a mischievous look in his eye.

“What are you planning?” You ask suspiciously, a grin plastered on your face as you watch him.

Max's smirk widens as he continues to work, his eyes never leaving you as he places the final ornaments on the tree. When he finally speaks, his voice is low and teasing, as he continues to hide his expression from you.

"Oh, nothing," He says casually, turning back towards the tree. "Just thinking about how simply lovely our tree looks this year."

“Hmm it does look pretty good” You say, stepping back to admire the tree all decorated.

"Not as good as you though Y/n." He finally admits, stepping towards you and looking you in the eyes. His voice is just above a whisper now, and there's a twinkle in his eyes that you know means trouble.

"Max, what are you-" You begin, but he reaches up to place a gentle finger on your lips, cutting off your words with a smirk.

Before you can say anything else, Max's other hand reaches out towards you and pulls you close. You find yourself pressed against him, your body flush with his. Without thinking, you reach your arms up around his neck, running your fingers through his hair.

He leans his head down, bringing his face closer to yours, and after a few moments of anticipation, his lips finally press lightly against your own. His hands move from your waist up to behind your head, drawing you in even closer.

As you two separate he looks up at the ceiling with a smirk, “Mistletoe, what a coincidence..” He says with a grin, looking back at you.

“You are such a dork” You say with a chuckle leaning your head against his chest.

"Oh, really?" He asks with clear doubt in his voice, but he can't resist a smug smile. "Maybe we should just leave it there for a while, just in case."

Suddenly you feel his hands reach up behind you and wrap around your waist, pulling you closer to him again. He smiles and you have to admit, you're starting to like the idea of leaving the mistletoe there.

“Maybe..” You muse back with a grin, capturing his lips in a kiss again.

The kiss lasts longer than the first, and you can feel his tongue exploring your own as you press yourself against him. His hands slowly move from your waist up to behind your head again, gently tilting your face to match his as he pulls himself closer to you.

Slowly, you feel his hands moving up to your shoulders and back down to your waist again, pulling you flush with his hips. This is becoming a lot more than some Christmas mistletoe.

And the cats don’t seem to be fans of it. You pull away from Max when you hear a rustling coming from the tree.

“What..” You mumble out, leaning down to look at the tree you see Jimmy hiding in there.

“Max I told you..!” You say with a groan.

"Oh, for goodness' sake. Jimmy, get out of there!" Max says, his voice now more stern.

With that, you watch as your beloved cat slowly crawls his way out of the tree, he looks up at you with wide eyes that are saying "You're going to kill me, aren't you?"

Then another ornament falls, followed by a “meow”. You move to get a better look at the tree and see Sassy hiding in the stems.

"Oh, come on!" You say loudly with laughter escaping from your lips. It seems that your cats just can't get enough of ruining Christmas decorations. Maybe the holidays are just too much fun for even them to resist.

At least now the mistletoe seems safe. You turn back to look at Max and notice that he looks even more stunning than usual in the light of the Christmas tree. How does he manage to make everything he does look so appealing?

"Sassy, no! We talked about this before. Come out of there this instant." Max commands, while you can't help but laugh at the absurdity of this situation.

Then again, it isn't at all surprising that your cats are trying to mess up your Christmas decorations.

“So who was right about the cats ruining the decorations?” You say smugly, leaning back onto the couch as you watch Max get both cats into his arms.

"Shut up," Max says without even turning to face you, but he's clearly laughing.

He holds your two cats, one in each arm, as they seem reluctant to acknowledge the fact that they've been caught red-handed. After a few moments of petting them, they calm down, and Max leans back against the couch as well.

"Did we really think they were going to behave themselves this year?" He asks with a small smirk. You can't help but laugh, it's a good thing your cats are cute.

“You thought that, I knew they were going to mess up the ornaments” You say with a giggle.

"I think I had a little too much faith in them." He admits with a shrug, his face showing no signs of regret as he holds out your cats for you to take.

Sassy and Jimmy give you pleading looks, and Max speaks on their behalf. "Please don't punish them, mom. They just wanted to have a little fun. You know, like how you and I had a little fun just a few minutes ago?"

You glare at Max and pick up Jimmy, cuddling him into your arms.

Soon both cats wander away, ready to get into some more mischief. You lean into Max, placing your head on his shoulder as you stare at the tree.

“You’re fixing the ornaments” You say to Max.

"Fine." He sighs, but as he looks at you, a slight smile spreads across his lips.

He gently pulls your head against his shoulder, wrapping an arm around your waist again. You press your body flush with his, relishing in the warmth of his skin.

You stare at the Christmas tree together for a few moments before he speaks again.

"I love you schat." He whispers, his voice so soft that you're not sure if he said it out loud or to himself.

“I love you too Max” You whisper back, happy and content in the moment.

He leans his head down to kiss you gently on the forehead, before whispering, "Let's start putting the ornaments back on the tree."

“You mean you’re going to do it, since I was right!” You say teasingly, shoving him off the couch with a giggle.

"Shut up." Max mutters in response, but as he walks away he pulls you up and off the couch. "Oh, I think we both know that you're not going to get off so easily."

After a moment, his arms around you kissing your neck gently. "You and your big ego..." He says lightly, but there's a tone of approval in his voice.

“Ohhh I have a big ego? What about you, three time world champion Max Verstappen?” You tease, wrapping your own arms around him.

"That's not me having an ego. Those are just facts." Max says with a sly grin, but then he lowers his voice and mumbles, "Besides, I've never met anyone with a bigger ego than you."

“Hmm I dunno, Danny Ric has a pretty big ego..” You mumble out with a smile. Max's grin falters for just a second. "Okay, maybe I've met one person with a bigger ego."

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y/n 📸🗑️

maxverstappen ❤️❤️❤️

y/n 🫶🫶

danielricciardo What’s that last picture?

y/n No comment

landonorris Is that Jimmy in the tree?

y/n Yes!!

heidiberger_ 🤍🤍

y/n 🤍

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radio 🪩: I feel like Max is the kind of guy to go all out for Christmas ❄️

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magiccath · 5 months

Text

Pretending

tenth doctor x f!reader (no use of y/n)

summary: In which you take the Doctor to your brother's wedding as your "date"

warnings: f!reader (in a dress) who has a brother

“No mum, but I-” you let out an exasperated sigh, pacing about the TARDIS control room. As your mother chattered on through the phone you rolled your eyes, casting a quick glance at the Doctor.

He didn’t appear to be paying any attention to you, his gaze fixed on the console. He was messing with the buttons with no apparent rhyme or reason. He was probably just keeping busy while you tried to wrap the phone call up.

Unbeknownst to you, he was listening in on your conversation as much as he could without being obvious.

“Fine. I’ll be there, and…” you glanced at the Doctor again, relying on a hope that he would just play along with you, “I’ll bring someone.”

The Doctor pulled his attention to you, a questioning look plastered on his face. Did you have a secret boyfriend he didn’t know about? Who was this “someone” that you were going to bring home? The Doctor didn’t want to admit it, but he felt a pit of jealousy growing in him.

“I’ll see you soon,” you smiled, “I love you too,” you pulled the phone away from your face before slamming it closed with a sigh.

“What’s that about?”

“My brother’s wedding is this week, and my mom still expects me to bring someone,” you absentmindedly ran your fingers across the buttons of the TARDIS, “would it be too much to ask you to be my date?” you asked anxiously. You knew you were asking a lot of him, but you didn’t have any other options. You hoped he wouldn’t find it too weird.

“Not at all!” The Doctor grinned, Honestly, the Doctor was too distracted by the fact that you weren’t harboring a secret boyfriend to think before speaking. He was more than happy to do it, he would hardly have to pretend. He felt a dull pain in his chest thinking about being your boyfriend. He had to remind himself he was just a date to get your mom off your back. It wasn’t real.

He shook his head, trying to clear his thoughts. “When is it?”

“Thursday at 4,” You smiled, surprised he was going along with this so easily. Usually, it took some convincing to get him to do the things that you wanted.

“Go get dressed,” he nodded towards the hallway with a smile.

You frowned and checked your watch.

“It’s Monday,” you laughed, ignoring him. He had absolutely no concept of time. It didn’t really matter when you were a space and time traveler. You had to remind him of important holidays like Christmas if you wanted to celebrate them. It wasn’t the kind of thing he thought about.

“Time machine,” he said as if reading your mind. He accentuated his point with a wink, flicking the switches on the console quickly.

You rolled your eyes but complied, leaving the control room to get ready. You pulled your best dress from the back of your closet. You never wore it, and you never had much reason to. You were always traveling with the Doctor, and a formal dress hardly seemed appropriate. Still, when you moved into the TARDIS you brought it with you. Just in case.

You’d bought the dress a month after traveling with the Doctor. You’d seen it in a shop window and the blue reminded you too much of the TARDIS to walk away from. The material was velvety and draped nicely, comfortably highlighting the natural curves of your body. If you looked closely at the fabric you could see the stars and planets etched into the crushed velvet.

Looking at it now it felt silly to buy a dress simply because it reminded you of a man you had just met. You tried to push these thoughts from your head and focus on getting ready.

When you were done you stood in front of the mirror, trying to make sure the girl looking back at you was still yourself. You couldn’t remember the last time you had dressed up like this. The last time you looked… this good.

You shook your head, pulling your focus back to the task at hand. You ran your hands through your hair anxiously before leaving. You walked down the hall carefully, stopping in the doorframe for a moment to look at the Doctor.

It was rare that you got to see him like this. His head was bent over the ship’s console, his brow furrowed in concentration. His spiky hair flew about in a million different directions. He had swapped his normal stripped suit for a plain black one. It was more properly fitted to his body, the black fabric draping over the sharp lines of his frame. You loved his normal suits, but there was just something about this one that had you captivated. Honestly, you found it hard to look away from him.

The Doctor turned towards you, the sound of your footsteps down the hallway pulling him from his work. The sight of you stopped him dead in his tracks, his eyes following the shape of your body in the doorframe.

“You look…” he trailed off, wide-eyed.

“Weird, I know,” you laughed, pulling anxiously at the hem of your dress.

“Beautiful,” He whispered, his honey eyes connecting with yours. The compliment made you turn away, a scarlet flush spreading across your cheeks.

He’d truly meant what he had said. Your hair fell elegantly around your face and shoulders, its color shimmering in the control room’s light. The Doctor couldn’t remember a time you had ever worn something so elegant or flattering. Not that your normal clothes were unflattering, there was just something special about seeing you in such fancy clothes. He was so used to your normal attire, that he found it hard to focus seeing you like this. He tried his best to keep his eyes from wandering, but it was hard.

You found you were having a similar problem with him and his nice suit. It’s not like you hadn’t ever seen him in a suit before, he wore one every single day. There was just a special kind of whiplash in seeing him in something he didn’t usually wear.

“Shall we?” You asked nervously, trying to catch the Doctor’s eye again. He swallowed anxiously before nodding in agreement.

He had already landed the TARDIS outside of the wedding venue while you were getting dressed. You took a deep breath preparing for what you were about to walk into. You truly loved your family, but they could be overbearing at times.

At the last moment, you held out your hand for the Doctor, a smile plastered on your face. Of course, he took it with an eager smile.

“What’s your brother’s name again?” He whispered as you walked out of the TARDIS doors. You slapped him lightly, assuming he was jesting. The Doctor didn’t want to admit that he really couldn’t remember. He wasn’t really good with names. Thankfully, the couple’s names were plastered everywhere, saving him the embarrassment of having to ask again.

It wasn’t long before your mother had rushed over, already dotting all over you. She fixed your hair and dress in places that didn’t really need to be fixed. The Doctor watched with a frown, examining the interaction like a nature documentary.

“You look darling,” she smiled, taking your face in her hands. Moving on from you, she pulled her attention to the man at your side. “Hello, Doctor!” She smiled, pulling him into an unsolicited hug.

“Mum,” you groaned, pulling on her sleeve. This was only her second time meeting the Time Lord, and she was already hugging him like family.

“Quite alright,” the Doctor grinned, hugging your mother back happily. He was a fan of hugs after all.

“It’s wonderful to see you again, how’s the traveling going?” she chattered on. You nodded along, not fully processing her words.

Surprisingly, the Doctor was still listening intently. He seemed to be enjoying her copious amounts of energy.

“She never really tells me where you go. I hope she isn’t too much trouble?” She continued. The doctor smiled politely and shook his head.

“If anything, I think I cause trouble for her,” he said, smiling at you adoringly.

Absentmindedly you slipped your hand into the Doctor’s. He rubbed reassuring circles with his thumb before removing his hand to wrap it around your waist.

You didn’t hear the Doctor’s answer or any that followed. The feeling of his strong hand on your waist was distracting enough. Holding hands was something you did all of the time. In a moment of great tension or danger, the Doctor would grab your hand without a second thought. If you were feeling lonely, you often would slip your hand into his. But he had never held you like this. Like you were a couple.

“Well!” your mother clapped, pulling you out of your haze, “I should let you show your date around,” she winked. She’d always liked the Doctor, even though mothers usually didn’t (according to the Doctor himself). Your mother was always trying to set you up with someone, so you could imagine how happy she was that you showed up with a date.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered to the Doctor, turning in his arms, “they’re going to be brutal.”

“Oncoming storm, remember?” The Doctor smirked. It was typical of him to think he could handle anything. However, there was a major difference between your family and an army of Daleks.

“I’m the only remaining family member who isn’t married, my dating life is a big deal,” you warned, adjusting his tie anxiously. He didn’t stop you, he knew you just needed something to keep your hands busy.

“They’re all…” you looked up at him with an almost solemn look, “expecting of me.”

“Well,” The Doctor shrugged playfully, “you’ve got me here with you,” He smiled, pulling you closer to him, “You always have me.”

His words made you turn a scarlet red, and you were more than happy to see your brother out of the corner of your eye. If anything, he could serve as a distraction so the Doctor couldn’t see the impact his words had on you. You didn’t want him to assume you had an ulterior motive in asking him to be here.

You called him over excitedly, giving him a big hug before introducing him to the Doctor. The Time Lord smiled politely, introducing himself to your brother with an excited smile.

The rest of the evening went as such. You walked the Doctor around, trying your best to keep the introductions short and painless. He didn’t seem to mind though, he happily answered all questions and continued all conversations. The whole time he was touching you in some way. Holding your hand, wrapping an arm around your waist, hugging you when you really needed it. You couldn’t help but marvel at how well the alien played a boyfriend. You figured you’d have to edge him on a bit, grabbing his hand now and then. You had always just assumed that physical contact wasn’t something he consciously thought about.

Your family loved him of course. He charmed just about everyone in a mile radius without even trying. Before long he was laughing and talking like he was part of the family. It was weird, seeing your lives collide in such a way. Even still, it seemed so natural. You didn’t ever want the night to end. The cheerful laughter rumbled through you, the Doctor’s hand resting comfortably in yours.

Eventually, you left for a minute on your own, the Doctor following you shortly after. You had to admit, he was really selling this boyfriend thing well.

“You’re been an excellent actor,” you laughed when he came into your line of sight. You smiled at him, genuinely grateful that he had made this night enjoyable for you.

“I’m not acting,” the Doctor said, so quiet you almost didn’t hear it.

“It’s made this event so much more bearable and frankly-” you stopped suddenly. “What do you mean?” You asked confused. He wasn’t acting?

The Doctor looked at you wide-eyed, suddenly sensing he had said the wrong thing. “Nothing,” he mumbled, pulling his eyes away from yours. Something about the last few hours had given him the confidence to admit how much he enjoyed being with you in this capacity. But even further, something in your face now made him reconsider.

“What do you mean you aren’t acting? You hate this stuff.”

“What stuff?” He asked, deflecting.

“Romantic stuff.” You planted your hands on your hips, your stare relentless.

“Not with you,” He groaned, his eyes connecting with yours again. “I love doing this with you. Having you this close, having your full attention and affection.” He groaned, running his hands over his face.

“I don’t understand,” you laughed uncomfortably, averting your gaze.

“I want this. For real.”

You stared at the Doctor for a moment, letting his words register. Once it fully hit you, it felt like a weight was lifted off your chest.

You threw yourself into his arms, standing on your tip toes. You still weren’t tall enough, so you pulled him down to you, crashing your lips into his. He adjusted quickly, lifting you off the ground so he could properly kiss you.

As many times as you imagined kissing the Doctor, you never imagined it this perfectly. It seemed almost impossible that your lips fit together so well. His hands gripped you strongly as if he was afraid you would slip away. Your own hands tangled themselves into his hair, pulling at the locks slightly.

As he deepened the kiss a content sigh floated from your lips, eliciting a smile from his own. You couldn’t get enough of each other, pulling desperately to get closer. You didn’t want to admit how much you wanted this, even if it was fairly obvious at this point. When you pulled away to gasp for air the Doctor stared into your eyes with a goofy grin.

“Can I stop pretending I’m not in love with you now?” He asked, and you threw your head back laughing.

#10th doctor x reader #tenth doctor x reader #10th doctor/reader #tenth doctor/reader #10th doctor #tenth doctor #doctor who #david tennant #doctor who fanfic #doctor who fanfiction #fanfic #fanfiction

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jeongharine · 5 months

Text

a sea of tangerines

⚝ mingyu x reader

⚝ angst, romance, established couple, smut

⚝ notes: i really can't get out of my mind that postcard so i had to use it in the story to get it out of my system. i think it has become one of my favourite written letters by an anonymous on the web.

anyways, happy early holidays to you reading. hope this period treats you well x

christmas eve, in a metropolis somewhere in the world.

"we used to live here together. i’m walking down the streets with a bag of tangerines in this city that we liked to call home. this is the only address that i could think of. happy holidays"

it was a hectic busy evening of december. the subway was full and mingyu really just wanted to rest. to lay on his comfy sofa and laze for the last days before the christmas crazyness. but he was stuck in a stupid metallic transport that had the resemblance of an infinite tunnel, with what seemed like the rest of the whole city.

something poked his tired left foot. then another, and another one. tangerines. a dozens of them. a wave of tangerines coming up at his feet.

he raised his head, and that’s when he spotted a ripped shopping bag held with all its might by slender fingers.

that’s when you spotted strong hands coming at you with your tangerines, a whispered sorry coming out of your mouth.

“it’s absurd really, a sea of tangerines coming up at my feet as if i had been the seashore. i thought i had hallucinations or something,”

that made you smile. “if only the supermarket shopping bags were not so shitty and-” “it was only a bag of tangerines rolling down the subway, though.”

right. it was only that.

“where you stopping by the way? maybe you do need a hand now,”

a puzzled look on your face. but then a smile. “right, me and my unwieldy tangerines need some help,”

that made him smile, though it was only a bag of tangerines rolling down the subway.

you left the natural tangerines onto the kitchen counter. the market with the fresh products wasn’t that far from your apartment and you waited for the rain to stop to go and do some grocery, wetting yourself nonetheless because the rain started again on your way back.

busy streets had stopped their chant and the citylights brightly lit around when mingyu stopped by.

“hey,” he ruffled his black hair back with a smile, stepping inside.

“you made it home early,” the heavy door creaking a little while closing it. “it was a bit hectic but yeah,”

“you did well,” you complimented. you looked at him fondly, making sure he took in the praise. it was never easy for him, and you knew it well. “join me on the sofa after you showered?” pointing at his sweaty tshirt.

mingyu hummed, pleased. “got something in mind?” you chuckled.

“actually, i just would like to spend some cozy time with my boyfriend if you mind,” you answered. mingyu couldn’t hide his disappointment, looking sullen like he’d wish for another answer. “i was kidding gyu, if you want to keep your girlfriend occupied in some other way it’s fine as well.”

it was one in the morning, the lamp dimly lit the room against the bingling lights of the street outside. mingyu shut the tv before slouching on the cushions next to you. he curled behind you, the smell of fabric softener and vanilla shampoo all around you.

he sighed deeply, nose buried in the crook of his loved one. the suspire beard in itself all the tiredness and weariness of the long day. “how long can you stay this time?”

“about ten days more or less,” you replied. after college you made it into the marketing world, and managed to get a good position job for a firm in the city. it was a source of proudness for you, for your parents and mingyu. but everything always comes with a burden. and travelling for work wasn’t that simple anymore.

distance was never easy, constantly keeping that in mind and making time to never skip anniversaries and holidays. you settled for that, and knew it would be challenging but this would have done for now.

“tired?”

“mmh,” he mumbled, leaving a trail of kisses on your neck. “it was very busy tonight in the restaurant. lots of dishes to prepare.” he placed his hand on your belly, slowly following the rising of your breaths. he took them in. mingyu would always be ready to take everything that’s bothering you.

there was a scratch on your watch, mingyu dropped it on the pavement last time you went away. he gently pulled you in, making you turn to face him.

his rough hand met your cheek, thumb stroking it gently to draw your mouth closer to his. his tongue eager, tiredness was not so present anymore. and so he kissed you like all the stars in the sky above would have exploded.

“i like this couch though,” mingyu whispered, lips damp from the kiss. “what do you mean?”

“that your boyfriend has something else in mind,” mingyu answered.

“bed’s waiting then.” you intertwined your fingers with his, leaving a peck on his nose.

the city lights danced slowly outside the window, a siren breaking the silence of the night when you went to the bedroom. everyone was asleep in the nearby apartments and you moved around like new lovers, when taking the risk of getting caught. but the night was gentle to you, keeping your secrecy like an oath.

being extra cautious when you brought mingyu in, the latter trying not to knock you over the drawer of your room when stripping you. you tumbled onto the white sheets, legs forever intertwined.

“i want to marry you.” mingyu whispered, kissing you gently on the shoulder. “i found the perfect house for us, not too far from the subway for the airport and the restaurant.”

the bed squeaked, and you smiled. you wanted that, as badly as mingyu wanted it. but it was not in your nature to rush things. mingyu looked at you fondly, the moon was brighter and he could see your soul.

“that sounds nice gyu, maybe we can look at it with purpose in a few months.”

“yeah? y/n, you’re not fooling with me right?”

“no, i just need a few months to adjust some things at work then we can start to really think about it,” you replied, heart beating like it never had before. “come here and kiss me,” you caressed his black locks of hair. but mingyu didn’t.

he started to trail kisses lower down your neck, breasts, stomach and slipped your undies down kissing your pubic bone and you were not prepared for it. “gyu–”

“i missed you, let me treat you as you deserve..”

mingyu got you wrapped around his finger with his sweet mouth and hand intertwined with yours. “oh,” you sighed when he suckled a little bit harder. “i don’t think i can last.”

“should i stop then?” mingyu asked, after pulling off with a pop.

“n–no, keep going baby,” you whined. the heat of the moment and your slick making you sticky, you were desperately thrusting up your hips in his face, which wasn’t easy but you tried nonetheless. mingyu responded to you with low groans, leaving your pussy unkissed like a punishment.

“you’re so annoying.” “stop whining like a baby,” he kissed you, galaxies exploding far away but the chanting of the subway trains covered it into the night. “you taste like tangerines,”

“ate them before,” “you’re the sweetest.” mingyu meant it literally, but you smiled like it was said just to please you. your head tilted into the soft pillow when his lips met yours with another kiss, tongue muffling all the noises.

he grabbed your back, twisting you over with the tug of his hand down his thigh. you had your leg splayed over mingyu’s waist, heavy breaths, you studied him with a perplexed cast. “want to make love to me like this?”

“honey, for i do really love giving you a good pound into the bed i don’t have it in me right now.” you laughed, sliding off mingyu’s underwear fast. “you still have that oil there?”

“yep,” you emphasized on the p while mingyu reached to your bedside table. his slicked up dick teased along your pussy’s lips just to hear you sigh before he slid in. a moan buried in his sweaty neck. “f-fuck .”

mingyu growled lowly. hands on your ass so the grinding was smoother on the push down. your eyes rolling back stupidly. “feels so good baby, fuck.”

the praise made you quiver. heavy panting, desperate breathing, slippery fair skin on tan skin, tits and pecs knocking against each other because you were that close.

mingyu rutted up another inch, your gut twisted. “y-yeah , i like that–” mingyu gasped loudly, inhaling fast. “if you keep talking i might pound into you.”

“guess you’re not tired anymore then.” “i always work hard for you.” you did not fight him when he laid you flat on the mattress under himself. you choked on a breath when mingyu couldn’t keep it to himself from fucking you that hard, especially when you were lain pliant like this. all exposed just for him and no-one else. fuck if it will never stop to drive him stupid.

the bed creaked under mingyu’s ministrations, his hips snapped rapidly and the sheets were bunched up tight in your fists. you couldn’t say you were not into it either.

you didn’t push away mingyu’s fingers when he placed it on your delicate nub and started to circle on it. “you have to come first,” and it was not hard for him to accomplish that, you gave it to him shortly after. burning hot along your nerves, you felt the sweet unraveling you never could control, and mingyu felt it as well when your hot spurts spilled onto his abdomen, grabbing onto his bulky arms as if they were your personal lifeline.

you breathed in satisfaction, and mingyu was desperate for his high then, pumping fast for an orgasm he waited all day for and spilling over your stomach. he pumped slowly then, tiredness hitting him. “dirty.”

he chuckled when you locked him in an embrace. “i want to marry you now, tonight even.”

you bubbled with a laugh. “i know, but give me at least three months.”

“one month.”

“no baby, i’m serious.” he replied, impatience slowly started building its home in the back of his mind. “do you want to go out and take a stroll around the city tomorrow?”

“yes, i would love to. i worked so hard today.” “i know.”

mingyu sighed. “but i will always work harder for you.” he promised kissing your nose, christmas lights sparkling the night sky hiding his promise.

you hummed into his damp hair. you would only take one month. mingyu had worked hard enough.

#mingyu x reader #kim mingyu x reader #seventeen x reader #mingyu smut #seventeen fic #mingyu fic #svt fic #mingyu x y/n #seventeen smut #mingyu scenarios #seventeen scenarios #seventeen imagines

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moralesmilesanhour · 4 months

Text

piece of cake

summary: meeting miles g at a bakery, and other happenings. wc: 3k+ warning: blood, grief (more at the periphery, not a major theme), and lightly implied mommy issues a/n: ngl i was hungry asf when i wrote this. why can't i ever write normal fluff fics anymore. first fic of 2024!!

Brooklyn Middle is closed for winter break. The basketball court where the snow-covered hoop no longer has a net is empty, save for the blinking Christmas lights strung across the chain-link fence.

In a few years, the pizza place across the street where students would linger after school will be demolished, replaced by a shiny new Oscorp building that reflects the sun from all angles of its glass exterior. But for now, the place is just closed early for the holidays, a few blocks away from a bakery.

The tall, bear-like frame of a father dressed in a long black overcoat can be seen entering with a wiry young boy in a red hoodie and bomber jacket tailing close behind. He has an afro as opposed to his father’s closely-cropped hair. The boy keeps trying to straighten his posture - as if his spine would suddenly lengthen and his shoulders would broaden from the act alone. He wants to make himself look important today, because he is on a top-secret mission:

Operation: Get Mom a Cake.

“I think mom’ll like that one.”

The boy points at a slice of tres leches cake sitting behind a glass display. It’s not as flashy as the other decorative cakes drizzled with chocolate and strawberries or encased in pink frosting, but those wouldn’t melt on the tongue the way tres leches did.

His father raised an eyebrow at the plain slice, but the boy looked at him with a certainty that he’d never seen before, through eyes nearly identical to his mother’s. The man knew then that he was getting an expert opinion.

“Alright, if you say so,” he chuckled, adjusting his glasses. “We’ll take that one, Val.”

The boy smiled proudly at the older woman as she handed him the pink box containing the cake. Mission accomplished.

Now, he looks up and frowns at the Oscorp building blocking the view of where his old school used to be as he picks at a slice of cake with a plastic fork.

The ‘Employees Only’ door behind the counter swings open, and Valeria Cruz hobbles out, removing her apron.

“It’s almost your shift, Miles, hurry up and finish that cake.”

Miles takes one more bite before rising from his seat near the entrance and pushing the paper plate and half-eaten slice into a small trash can.

“You got it, Miss V.”

“Did you take out the trash?”

He pauses, and his eyes widen.

“I’mma get that done right now, Miss V!”

The woman sighs, running a hand through gray and white-streaked curls as the teen sprints out the door and back outside.

A forest green puffer jacket rushes past you on the sidewalk. It’s the same one you had seen shuffling out of the back entrance of Val’s bakery the other morning, lugging two black garbage bags with a purple hoodie obscuring the stranger’s face.

He probably works there, then, you think. Good. She could use the help.

The place had been packed the week before Officer Morales’ funeral, and for several weeks after. But over time, business began to slow down to a trickle. Hipster cafés and towering condos sprang up and choked out the little pizza shops and restaurants that took their owners’ last names, like when an invasive species of plant grows taller than the local varieties and smothers them, blocking out the sun.

You had been seeing Val’s face since you were in diapers. Families used to go there for birthdays, for elementary school graduations, middle school graduations - or sometimes just to grab something sweet to eat after church on Sundays. You continued the tradition–even if just to buy a tiny bag of cookies–in the hopes that the place might still be standing for your high school graduation.

The bell above the door rings to signal your entrance. The once baby pink wallpaper has begun to fade, but the late-afternoon sun makes it feel as vibrant as it did when you were twelve. Valeria is standing in front of the display of freshly-baked pastries with her apron folded neatly over her arm.

“Oh, were you about to close up shop?” You begin to take backward steps. “I can come back later–”

“No, no, sweetie, it’s fine!” The woman waves her hand, beckoning you to stay. “I was just about to go on my lunch break. I have someone about to take over for me.”

“It’s cool, I can wait. I saw somebody taking out the trash, that him?”

She sighs wearily, “That’s him, alright. He’s a good kid, but he’s always–”

“Sorry I’m late!”

In rushes Mr. Green Jacket through a chilly gust of wind, who turns to nod in greeting towards you before weaving past Val and behind the counter, where he disappears through the ‘Employees Only’ door.

“That boy, I swear. Never on time!”

He reappears sans the jacket, wearing a white apron identical to the one Val is holding. The name tag on it reads ‘Miles’.

Miles. Where have you heard that name before…?

The hood on his sweater is no longer pulled over his head, revealing two neat cornrows that cascade all the way down his neck. The surrounding hair has been shaved and faded at the nape of his neck and hairline. He’s the sort of brown-skinned that looks golden when the sunlight hits his face as he approaches the cash register.

“You gonna be alright for the next half hour?” asked Val with an eyebrow raised.

Miles drummed his fingers on the counter and grinned. “Yup, I got it.”

“Don’t destroy anything while I’m gone!”

“I won’t, promise.”

She pushes the door open with a skeptical look and leaves.

With this new stranger temporarily in charge, you carefully approach the counter. He looks up at you with curious brown eyes.

“Whatchu want?”

“Um…” you blink before remembering what you were here for. “Just sugar cookies, please.”

“How many?”

“Five.”

He turns to grab a paper bag, then bends to drop the desired amount of cookies into it with the pair of tongs that sit on the inside of the display.

“If you don’t mind my asking, what school you go to? I haven’t seen you around here before, feel like I’d remember you if I had.”

Miles pops his head over the counter and tilts his head with a cheeky grin.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

You avoid eye contact, shifting from one foot to the other. Suddenly it’s not so cold anymore.

“I-I don’t know. You just seem memorable.”

He laughs a raspy, breathy laugh and hands you the bag of cookies over the counter. His hand is much larger than yours with slender fingers at the end of it, but still manages to appear almost clumsy-looking. Big enough to be a man’s, but with only half the dexterity.

“I go to Visions.”

“Fancy. You like it over there?”

“It’s aight. Kinda uptight, but my dad always said it was a ‘good opportunity’, so I stayed.”

You hum in consideration.

“Can't do everything for your parents, though. They'll have you living their dreams before you know it.”

The smile fades a bit, and Miles averts his gaze.

“Well my dad passed, so I just figured I’d just do this one thing for him.”

You cover your mouth with your palm.

“I'm so sorry, I–”

“It's fine,” he snorts without any humor. “You might be the only one that doesn't know who my daddy is. Kind of a relief.”

Miles encloses the money you just gave him in the slot beneath the cash register with a loud snap.

“You need anything else?”

You chew on your bottom lip in embarrassment and clutch your bag of cookies.

“No. Thank you.”

He doesn’t look up from the register.

“Have a nice day.”

Your mother is leaning on the window sill, nibbling on a granola bar when you get back home. She’s silent, which means she is observing. You’ll need to tread carefully.

“I brought cookies.”

She gives you a sidelong glance.

“Val’s cookies?”

“Yup, same as always.”

“That lady still working there all by herself?”

“She hired somebody to help out, actually - I saw a boy working the register.”

She notices the upward inflection in your voice at the mention of a boy, which interests her more than the cookies.

“What’s he look like?”

“He’s got, um,” you make a gesture over your head. “Twin braids–cornrows–and a green jacket? Kinda tall, too.”

Your mother nods, thoughtful. The description rings a bell, but she needs to confirm.

“You catch his name?”

“Miles, I think.”

“Lord,” she gasps, fully turning to face you. “That’s that Morales boy! I used to work with his momma, bless her heart. Barely saw his face after the funeral.”

The image of Miles’ face at the mention of his dad makes you cringe at your comment earlier. How could you not recognize him? He practically stole his face from the mural that was plastered above the precinct. You had only heard the boy’s name uttered once by your mother over the phone at 2:00 A.M., whispered like a secret.

“I can’t imagine how it must be for Miles. Didn’t he just get into that nice school down there? Of course they’ll have to let him go home. He should be with his mother.”

“He was such a sweet little boy. Then I saw him the other day?”

She shook her head, “Look like a different person. He had them flashy studs in his ears, nose pierced and everything.”

She wrinkles her nose. “Wouldn’t be surprised if he had tattoos under that coat as well. Damn shame.”

“He seemed nice when I saw him,” you remark quietly in a weak attempt to defend his character, despite having known him for all of five minutes. “Sweet, like you said.”

Your mother’s face hardens, all of her attention now focused on you as she folds the wrapping of the granola bar.

“That’s why you’re not bringing no boys home ‘till you’re eighteen,” she sharply reminds you. “‘Seems nice’ - How you know if he’s really nice or not?”

Again, Miles’ face appears in your mind’s eye. He didn’t seem to want your pity - rejected it, even. And what of his apparent chronic lateness?

Still…

“You don’t know that, either,” you say despite yourself. “I spoke to him while I was there.”

Your mother’s eyes narrow.

“Girl, I know that look. I better not see you runnin’ around with that boy, understand me?”

She looks set on not changing her mind now, so you only nod in defeat.

“Yes, ma’am.”

In your head, you’re already making plans to hit up the bakery tomorrow - both to apologize and to see the sun kissing Miles’ face again. Maybe tomorrow he’d even have the piercings in.

But when you get there the next day under the guise of ‘a trip to the corner store’, Miles isn’t at the register.

The sky has turned a pale shade of gray, and it has begun to drizzle. Pulling your navy blue coat tightly around you, you consider turning back around when–

Boom!

The sound of something hitting a trash can from behind the establishment catches your attention. It could be him taking out the trash at the last minute again.

Your assumption is proven only halfway correct.

Stepping over discarded boxes and tin cans, you find Miles doubled over, clutching his side. “Are you okay?”

Startled, bloodshot eyes glance at you before focusing on the ground.

“Fucking fantastic,” he grunts painfully.

As you get closer, you can see a dark stain blooming from where his hand is. A sick feeling swirls in your stomach.

“Oh my God, do you need me to call somebody?”

“Nah, I’m…I’m straight,” Miles says through labored breaths. “I just gotta…patch myself up before I get home.”

You whip out your phone and frantically unlock it.

“I’m calling an ambulance.”

“Hell no–”

“You are bleeding!”

He tilts his head towards a duffle bag lying near his feet.

“I got First Aid in there…that’ll do me just fine.”

When he tries to reach for the bag, his knees give out, causing him to collapse right next to it.

Miles shivers as you gingerly wrap white bandages around his waist, the flat expanse of skin on his stomach partially exposed to the elements. He fades in and out of consciousness, between your face and black nothingness. When he’s awake, he stares up at you in disbelief.

“I didn’t call 9-1-1, if that’s what you’re wondering,” you tell him with a grin. “This should stop the bleeding, but I can’t help you beyond that.”

“Wusyaname?” he mumbles, head lolling towards you. He’s on the brink of passing out again.

“Call me (Y/N).”

“Wasn’t gon’ call you anything else.”

“Shut up, I just saved your life.”

“Mmmm-hm,” Miles hums with a lazy smile that makes you wonder if he’s becoming delirious.

“Eeeeverybody loves sayin’ that. Everybody always…”

His eyelids get heavy before he can finish the thought, and he finally blacks out again in your lap.

There’s a short line inside the bakery that weekend, and you wonder if Miles has anything to do with it.

Word seemed to get around mysteriously fast that the former teenaged recluse had come out of hiding after that conversation (if you could even call it that) with your mother. From where you’re sitting–by the window, nibbling on a sugar cookie, observing–Miles does not seem to enjoy the attention.

Or maybe you’re just imagining the strained smile on his face as the line of customers becomes a Greek chorus of gasps and squeals.

“You got so big!”

“What did you do to your hair?”

“Oh, you look just like Jeff.”

“How’s Rio?”

“Good to see you out and about again.”

The sparkling curiosity is nearly drained from his face by the time he joins you at the end of his shift with a slice of cake. He does not have the fabled nose piercing in, but two diamond studs sparkle when the light hits them every time he moves his head.

“So?”

“So…?”

“Are you alright after I found you the other day? I saw you limping back there.”

Miles rolls his eyes.

“I’m fine. My mom’s literally a nurse. She got me straight.”

“What’d you tell her? Looked like you broke a rib.”

“Far as she’s concerned, I fell off my bike.”

“I’ve never seen you on a bike.”

“Doesn’t mean I don’t have one.”

You shrug. Touche.

“What did you have to say to me that was worth stalking me after my shift?”

“Stalking?”

“You buy the same thing every time, you think I ain’t notice?” Miles smirks, like a detective who’s just gotten a confession. “Who goes to a bakery and only gets cookies?”

“Lay off me, man, these are excellent,” you take another bite for emphasis. “Anyways, I actually came to apologize.”

His brows furrow in confusion. “For what?”

“For what I said the first time I saw you. I didn’t know you were that Miles.”

The corners of Miles’ lips pull downwards into a frown.

“That’s it?”

“Mm, well…”

You bite your lip by force of habit.

“I also wanted to talk to you again. Under better circumstances. That your favorite type of cake?”

Miles looks down at his plate when you point to it with your fork, as if he’s seeing it for the first time.

“Yeah, tres leches. What about it?”

“I dunno, I just always see you eating that and nothing else. Is there a reason?”

You expect to say something about the sweetness, or the texture, but instead he answers:

“It always tastes the same.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, like…” He puts down his fork and starts to construct an analogy in his head.

“It’s like when you see an ice cream truck. You run up to it before it drives off, and what do you ask for? First thing that pops into your head?”

“Vanilla?”

“Exactly. You could try one of the other ones, but what if it tastes like ass? Now you stuck eating something you don’t like–”

“And it’s a waste of money.”

“Exactly!” Miles laughs. “You get it. My mom makes fun of me because I’ve been eating the same thing since I was five. But it’s always good! And the same amount of good.”

“Can’t argue with that.”

You tap your nails on the table, thinking.

“But what if you find a new flavor that you really like?”

He shrugs, “Then lucky me, I guess. But that doesn’t tend to happen.”

“It could happen, though.”

He watches the strange way you eat. Slowly, teeth-first, as if you’re afraid to make a mess. It’s weirdly dainty, which makes him chuckle beneath his breath.

“What?”

“Nothing.”

“Uh-uh, don’t do that. What’s so funny?”

Miles gives you that same head tilt again.

“It’s cute, the way you eat.”

Your hand freezes just as it’s about to lift another cookie to your mouth, and you stare at him blankly.

“That’s…”

He pauses too.

“...Weird, yeah. Sorry. I dunno why I said that.”

A beat of silence passes that’s so heavy with awkwardness, that the two of you can’t help but burst into poorly-stifled laughter.

You lean forward with your chin resting in your hand. “That’s fine. I kept coming here just to spy on you, so I guess I’m weird, too.”

“Ah, so you admit it!”

“Hey, if I wasn’t bein’ a total creep, you might’ve bled out next to the garbage dump. Val can’t lose a valuable employee, right?”

“If you put it that way.”

You can see the white of some of Miles’ teeth peeking out as he smiles. One of his canines is charmingly crooked, and sharper than the others. When the smile fades, he suddenly looks uncertain.

“Can I ask you a question this time?”

“Ask away.”

“Do you wanna make this,” he gestures between you, “like, a regular thing? Y’know, ‘meeting under better circumstances’.”

It’s your turn for a smile to spread across your face.

“We should. Whatever you did to end up bleeding out in the rain, I guess I’d be a witness now.”

“M-hm. Can’t have you yappin’ about that to my customers,” He plays along, then winks. “I’mma need your number too, just in case.”

Just before you reach for your phone in your pocket, you hear your mother’s voice in your head, casting a shadow over the whole thing and giving you pause.

All jokes aside, Miles had never explained what had landed him in that predicament behind the bakery in the first place. He’s always late. He lies to his mother. You’re about to lie to your mother.

But the sun is hitting his face again, and with the light bouncing off of his pupils, he looks like he couldn’t hurt a fly. The shadow remains at the corner of your eye. Just the corner.

You grin and hand him your phone.

“You got it. Just in case.”

#miles morales x reader #miles morales x black!reader #earth 42 miles x reader #earth 42 miles morales x reader #prowler!miles #moralesanhour

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shuichisweave · 6 months

Text

costume party

riddler x (sort of bimbo) reader part one

halloween fic

suggestive

“Edward”

Oh dear god. Oh no. Oh fuck.

You did not call him Edward unless he had truly fucked up. What was it now? Had all of his plans of eventually letting you in on knowing who he truly was gone awry? He froze in place, unable to move or even look in your direction, as if he had been plastered down onto the cushion of the loveseat in your shared apartment.

No. Impossible. It couldn’t be- he had done everything absolutely perfectly, everything falling into place just as it should have, slowly introducing the idea of him being more radicalized than he had let on when he first met you. It was going to be sublime. He realized that by now he had not responded to you for nearly a minute. Better late than never.

“Yes dear? Is everything alright?” He looked over his shoulder to see you behind him tapping your foot on the ground. Looking impatient, disappointed even. “Eddie, baby, what day is it?” His eyes swatted from you to the calendar on the fridge. October 26th.

“Uhhhh… the twenty-sixth?” You softened your gaze slightly, realizing he had no clue how close the upcoming holiday was. “Eddie, we have a costume party coming up on the twenty-ninth of this month. There's only three days left counting today to get our shit together and put together some costumes. We’re going costume shopping today and that’s final” You turned back into your shared bedroom to get ready for shopping without another word. Edward let out a heavy sign he didn’t realize he had been keeping in.

The Halloween surplus store luckily wasn’t too bare bones for it being the end of October. A few shelves were sparingly stocked however most were full. Unfortunately for Eddie that just meant more for you to browse through and drag him into trying on. “Eddie, look at this! How cute! A playboy bunny costume! Isn’t it so pretty!” You showed him the vinyl wrapped costume package with a scantily clad woman with bunny ears on. He audibly gulped at the thought of having to share your presence with others while you wore that.

Even after having been together for over a year he still didn’t know how to respond to you in a situation like this. “It’s er- lovely sweetheart but don't you want these to be matching costumes? That means I’ll either have to be Hugh Hefner or a playboy bunny too, and I don’t know how I feel about having to wear that around some of your coworkers…” You took a moment to think on it, and placed the bagged costume back on its proper hook. “Good idea you’re so right! Plus Hugh Hefner is just ugh you know? I don’t want to think of you as a gross old guy” You went back to peruse some of the stocked costumes, taking your time to look through them carefully. “AHA! It’s so perfect, Eddie look! Look, look, look!” In your hands you held a skimpy little bo-peep costume, complete with thigh highs, a garter, and a baby pink shepherd's crook.

“So what do you think? Should I get it? That way you can be a cute little sheep and we’ll look perfect together! He nearly came in his work khakis at the thought of you, practically nude in that little get up and dragging him around the party like your sex slave. “Y-yes absolutely. I think you’ll look … so so pretty” You grinned and searched for a way to make him have a not too embarrassing sheep costume.

Finally making it home you squealed in delight at the thought of Ed seeing you in this costume and making his jaw drop to the floor. Although to him he just thought it was a shriek of happiness from finally having a cute outfit to wear for the party you would be holding. “Alright, I’m gonna go try it on! No peeking okay?” It was then that he realized it would have been a great idea to bug the bathroom, he would have made good use out of the pictures and videos that a hidden camera in there would produce. After a few minutes of hearing the sound of plastic bags and shuffling, the bathroom door opened and you appeared, donning the frilly costume. Your tits nearly spilled out the top of the corset top and the soft pink skirt left nothing to the imagination. You frowned slightly and said “Eddie? I’ve called your name three times by now. What do you think? Too much?” He nearly shouted “No! No no it’s perfect. Truly it’s perfect, you look perfect”

You strolled back over to him and gave him a kiss on the cheek. “I’m so happy you like it Eddie, I absolutely adore it” You gently wrapped your arms over his shoulders, hanging off of him. “So now that I know how you feel about it- do you want to try it out?”

“Try it out? What do you mean?” He looked at you utterly confused. “C’mon Eddie baby” You said, taking him by the hand and pulling him towards your shared bedroom.

“Oh!”

Oh.

#fanfic #the riddler x reader #edward nashton x reader #bimbo reader #riddler #edward nygma x reader #edward nygma #the batman 2022

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sopebubbles · 9 months

Text

Master List

Thirteen

Synopsis: in a world where alphas, betas, and omegas live along side modern humans as second class citizens, you've fallen through the cracks of a society that wants to take everything wonderful from you. Luckily a timely encounter with the boys just might save your life.

Chapter summary: hobi and tae take you on a shopping trip, many long awaited events follow

Warnings: insecurities, trying on clothes, mentions of death

WC: ~5k

Your t-shirt grated against your skin as you got dressed for the day. Just like being around saps and their sour scents, you had gotten used to the roughness of cheap cotton against your sensitive skin. You rarely thought about it anymore except on rare occasions when your senses were heightened or you felt overwhelmed. But Hobi had stocked your bathroom with all the best hygiene products an omega could buy, and after two full weeks of living there and properly nourishing your body inside and out, it was like you could feel every fiber of the fabrics you came into contact with.

Last night you had been so bothered by the shirt you normally slept in that you shucked it off in frustration, only to find how delicious the soft blanket Yoongi had gifted you on your first night felt across the expanse of your body. It was hard enough to get out of bed because of it, but putting on your regular scratchy clothes seemed like a punishment. You didn't have to work today, maybe you could just strip down and get back in the nest. With a sigh, you accepted the discomfort. Hobi was already downstairs and you wanted to join him more than you wanted to be comfy.

After thudding down the stairs, you realized Hoseok wasn't the only one in the kitchen. You forgot that since you had a day off due to a boring national holiday, so did Jin and Namjoon. Yoongi, Jimin and Jungkook were all still at work, but Tae and Hobi were seated at the kitchen table with the two large alphas.

"Good morning, sleepy head," Taehyung smiled. He found some kind of satisfaction in being awake before you for once.

You grumbled something unintelligible as you looked at the men in the room you wanted to enter. You were suddenly very annoyed about the bank holiday that had ruined your morning plans with Hoseok. Why did you sleep so long?

"Looks like someone woke up on the wrong side of the nest," the omega teased over the rim of his coffee mug.

You looked at him for a moment, feeling unsure of yourself and what to do in their presence. It was incredibly rare in the weeks you'd been officially living with them that you were around either one of them without Yoongi or Jimin there. Spending time around Tae had gotten comfortable quickly after you saw how close he was with Jimin. And if you weren't with Jimin and Tae, it was Hobi and Tae. You'd realized after only a few days that he was harmless, more a puppy than an alpha, sweet and playful, loving attention, but also disinterested and unobtrusive. When he was around, he was funny, welcoming and gentle. But seeing the four of them sitting together felt like walking in on a pack meal. You were an outsider. Your feet wanted to carry you back up the stairs.

Should've just stayed in the nest.

"Do you want me to make you something to eat?" Hobi asked, eyes carefully taking in your frozen form.

"No, that's okay," you said very softly.

"You know you should eat something, pup," he pushed and watched you begin to fidget in a way he now recognized as anxiety in you.

"Yeah, but I'll get it." You walked carefully, stepping as close to the counter and as far from the alphas as you could to get inside the kitchen.

Jin and Namjoon hadn't done anything in particular to threaten or intimidate you, and you knew nothing of the conversation that Yoongi had with them on the day you joined his pack, but they hadn't begun to look any less deadly in your eyes. Although Yoongi didn't talk about it, you could sense the tension that lingered between him and the alphas, and so you stayed wary and did your best to stay out of their way, and whenever possible, out of their line of sight.

Now you skirted around them to get to the refrigerator, but honestly you were feeling too nervous about it to eat. You stared into the fridge, zoning out until Hoseok called you back to the moment.

"Is something wrong, pup?" He asked, frowning when he saw the way you jumped when you heard his voice.

You closed the refrigerator without taking anything out and scratched your arm under your shirt as you moved to a farther corner of the kitchen. "I'm fine. Just a little…uncomfortable."

Hobi looked around at the three alphas sitting with him before he stood up and put his body between them and you, subtly so they didn't know what he was doing, but you had an idea. He turned to you with soft, slightly apologetic eyes. "Don't worry, pup. Yoongi will be home in a few hours. Until then I'll make sure nothing–"

"Oh, no," you interrupted. "It's not…well yeah it is, but…it's just that my damn shirt is so irritating. All of my shirts are. It's like I can feel every fiber rub against every cell of my skin. It's so– ugh!"

Hobi's entire face shifted to one of delight. "Finally!"

You gave him a puzzled look as you scratched under your collar. "What?"

"I've been waiting to be able to take you on a shopping trip! All your clothes are much too rough for you. It's time for an upgrade!"

"Oh. No, you don't have to do that!"

Hobi clicked his tongue at you. "Don't you listen? I want to."

"I'm in!" Tae agreed, getting up from the table.

"As if you have a choice. You're driving," Hobi replied.

"Of course. You need my car, and my credit card," Tae grinned playfully.

Your stomach turned. "Oh no. Don't do that. I have money. I've been saving up." You had been saving up to get a place to live, and now that you'd solved that problem, you had a bit of cash. Not much, but enough to buy a few new things.

"Nonsense. Neither of you are paying," Hoseok told you.

"What do you mean?"

The omega rolled his eyes. "We will swing by and get your alpha's card so he can pay."

You picked at your fingernails. "No, we can't. He's busy and I can–"

"Hobi's right," Jin said suddenly, standing to put a hand on Hobi's shoulder. "Yoongi would want to pay and," he turned his eyes on Taehyung, "I can only imagine what he would want to do to you if he found out you tried to provide clothes for his omega."

Taehyung ducked his head as if he could imagine Yoongi giving him a smack. "Okay, we'll stop by and see Yoongi."

"Mm, but what if he's busy. Won't he be mad? I don't want to bother him."

Hobi shook his head at you and grabbed your hand to stop you from picking at your nails. "He could never be bothered to see you, let alone mad. You really have no idea how you have him wrapped around your finger. Come on. Let's go. No time to waste," he said, already pulling you toward the door while Taehyung fetched his keys. "We'll be back in a few hours," he told Jin as you put on your shoes.

"Have fun," the man grinned as he watched the two of you leave, enjoying the light in Hoseok's eyes as he took you out to play.

"I guess I'll text him to let him know we're coming," you said as you got into the back seat.

"No! It will be more fun if it's a surprise!" Hobi insisted.

"But I'm supposed to let him know when I go out."

Hobi sighed. "Gosh, you are such a goody two shoes sometimes. It will be fine. You're with us."

It was a slow day for Yoongi. The morning had been quiet. They hadn't been called out in hours, and although it was nice not having to deal with any emergencies, it was the worst kind of boredom. Yoongi had just been playing games on his phone. He wanted to text you and see what you were up to, but he didn't know what to say and he didn't want to annoy you. But he felt restless. So he was thrilled when he saw the minivan pull up to the ambulance station. When he saw you hop down from the backseat, his heart skipped a beat.

"What brings you here?" He wondered, coming out to meet you as the three of you approached the open bay door.

"We're on a mission," Hoseok informed him. "Pup needs some new clothes." You blushed.

"Oh, that sounds good. Anything special?" Yoongi smiled. He secretly loved it when you got shy.

"Wouldn't you like to know. Just hand over your credit card," Hobi grinned.

You whined. "You don't need to do that. I have money," you insisted.

Yoongi smirked as he pulled his wallet from his back pocket and plucked a silver card from inside. "You don't need to spend your money on this. I've got it." He held the card out to Hobi without taking his eyes off you, and the omega put it directly in his own wallet.

"Told you, pup."

"Yoongi," you began another whine.

He stepped forward to cut you off. "Who?" He asked with mischievous eyes and a deep but quiet growl.

"Alpha," you breathed and looked at the concrete. "You really don't–"

Your words ceased when his fingertips met your cheek. He pushed the hair behind your ear, his warm fingers reaching around the shell of it and back under your jaw to lift your chin. He looked into your eyes while he spoke in his soft deep voice, sending a shiver down your spine. "I want to. It's my duty and my honor to provide for you. You're my omega, aren't you?"

You nodded. "Yes, alpha."

"Good, princess. I want you to get anything and everything you want. Don't worry about a thing. Just get what feels good and show me later, alright?"

His fingertips still held your jaw lightly, but you nodded again. "Okay."

Before he let you go, he pressed his lips to yours in a kiss that managed to be both passionate and chaste. He's kissed you many times since the first time, but never any further than this. He often gave you soft kisses on your forehead or cheeks, sometimes a quick peck on the lips. Usually these kisses were reserved for when he had to say goodbye. He longed for more, but he was happy with what he had. More would follow, he was sure, and he was afraid if he was too impatient about it that meant he didn't feel secure that you wanted to stay, so he held himself back and tried to have faith. But he didn't know if he would last much longer. He felt that maybe you were ready for more too. A time would come very soon when he'd push that boundary again.

He pulled away and basked in leaving you breathless. "Have fun," he commanded before letting you stumble back toward the van, a stupid grin plastered across his face.

The pit returned to your stomach when Taehyung pulled to a stop in front of a fancy looking boutique. You never would've even looked in the window of a place like this while passing by. The thought of the price tags had a whine building in your throat.

"Relax, pup," Hoseok soothed, looking back at you. "It's not as fancy as it seems, I promise. But they cater to omegas. Everything they sell is designed for comfort. This should solve your problems."

"Fine," you groaned.

"Oh, one more thing," Taehyung said as you finally unbuckled your seatbelt. "When we're in there people will probably assume I'm your alpha. Just let them. It will keep you safe."

You started to protest. Only Yoongi had the right to call himself your alpha. But you could also see the wisdom of his advice. And no one needed to know anyway. If their wrong assumptions could make you safer, then so be it. You nodded and climbed out of the van.

When you walked inside Tae held the door open as Hobi went in before you, and then he followed behind.

"Good morning. Welcome to Euphoria," a woman behind the cash register greeted as she came out to meet you. "Is there anything I can help you with today?"

Tae stepped closer behind you, feeling an instinctive need to cover you. He might call it stranger danger. Normally he felt it when he encountered alphas, but occasionally with larger betas, like Jungkook, only he met Jungkook before he developed a real fear of strangers. But most of all he felt it with saps. This woman was none of the above. She was just an ordinary, non-threatening omega. But then, this time he wasn't feeling anxious for himself, only for you. How strange.

There hadn't been any reason until now for him to be out in public with you, but he wasn't expecting to feel this protective. You weren't even his omega, as had been made so abundantly clear this morning. But you were so in need of his protection, and you were practically a part of his pack, no matter what anyone said. From Taehyung's point of view it was only a matter of time. If the others got to feel half of what he felt right now—the way he needed to be there for you in the least threatening of places—then the only thing standing between you and the seven of them was, well you.

Hoseok, as usual, took the lead, stepping closer to the store clerk, which noticeably did not set off alarm bells in Tea's. "My girl here needs some new clothes. I'm thinking some comfortable pajamas and some things she can wear under her clothes for work. Just some basics."

The woman peered around Hobi to get a better look at you and Tae had the urge to pull you back by your shirt to stand behind him. "You're a petite little thing, aren't you?" She said with her professional smile.

You stepped back into Taehyung and let your hair fall in your face, and his heart began to race. Were you actually seeking shelter from him? Or did you just stumble into him because you were shy? He didn't have time to think it through before he put a steadying hand on your shoulder. But when he did, you didn't pull away or act surprised.

"That's okay, sweetheart. I think we have some things in our juniors section that will fit you."

Taehyung chuckled and you looked up at him with huge eyes and dark cheeks. "It's cute. Everyone thinks it's cute that you're so small," he said to placate you.

"I'm not cute," you grumbled as you followed Hoseok, who followed the woman down the wide aisle that led to the back of the store. "I'm a grown woman."

"Sure, if you don't get too hung up on the grown part," he teased.

"You're a gigantic freak, but you don't see me making fun of you for it," you fired back.

"I'm not making fun! And I'm not gigantic. I'm not Namjoon. I'm perfectly normal sized for an alpha." He straightened his back, not afraid of appearing a few inches larger and looming over you.

"Thank god," you said under your breath.

"You know he's harmless, right?" Tae asked softly. "As harmless as me."

"None of you are harmless," you muttered, but Tae heard and only smiled.

"We'll just look around for a bit," Hoseok told the store clerk.

"Sure. Let me know if you need any help," she said and walked briskly away.

Looking around at the many racks of clothes, you started to feel a little bewildered. You hadn't been in a store like this since you were a kid, when your mom would take you on a one yearly trip to the nearest city to buy clothes before school would start and only if you hadn't outgrown the ones she'd bought the year before. Since then, it had been strictly second hand stores for you, and you wore black as much as possible because it wouldn't look as dirty as lighter clothes.

"What are you thinking?" Hobi asked as he watched you take in the selection without seeing anything at all.

"I don't know where to start," you admitted.

He hummed. "They do have a good selection. You can take a minute to just look around. What's your style? Maybe I can help."

You sighed. "I don't really have a style."

"Well, if you did, what would it be?"

You continued to look overwhelmed, unable to answer even that seemingly simple question.

"Listen, Y/N," Hobi drew your attention to him with a soft hand on your shoulder. "Whatever you wore before to express yourself, to hide yourself, to try to be whoever you were trying to be…that's in your past life. This is your new life. You should just feel like yourself in your clothes."

You pursed your lips. What he said made sense, but it didn't change the fact that you didn't know who you were supposed to be in this new life. What did you feel like? And how did that translate into clothes?

Finally, Hoseok had an idea. "Let's do this. You can go try on some pajamas, and Taehyung and I will pick out some things for you to try to help you get some direction. Sound good?"

You nodded your head, grateful for the instruction.

Hopefully he isn't getting tired of helping us.

You picked out a couple of cute and exquisitely soft pjs and took them to the fitting room. The first one was so instantly soothing to you skin you didn't want to take it off. By the time you'd tried on the second one Hobi was knocking on the door. You opened it partially to look at him.

"These are just some basics, some undershirts and stuff so you can pick what fabrics and colors you like," he told you ask he pushed a stack of folded shirts into your arms. "Those are cute by the way. Lets get them," he decided after getting a look at the blue silk shorts and tank top set you were wearing. "Try those on. We'll be back."

Hobi had set Taehyung on a mission to find different styles and colors so that you could narrow down what you did and didn't like, and Tae had taken on the assignment with enthusiasm. Inasmuch as fashion was just another form of art, Taehyung was going to making you a piece of art and use the whole color pallette to do it. He and Hobi filled their arms with shirts, skirts, jeans, t-shirts, sweaters and more in every color of the rainbow before they came back to knock on your door.

"I really love this fab–" your jaw dropped when you opened the door to see both men with their arms full. "Am i going to try on the whole store?"

"Don't be silly. Once we get an idea of what style works for you then we can move on to picking out colors."

"Let me in. I'll organize these really quick," Tae said, pushing into the small dressing room with you. You pressed yourself against the wall, eyes going wide.

"Taehyung, you're overstepping and scaring the pup," Hobi said calmly.

Tae froze and looked down at you sheepishly. "S-sorry. I wasn't thinking. I'll just–" he forced the hangers on the closest hooks and stepped outside of the cubicle.

From beyond the door he began instructing you which items went together as you tried on each ensemble, coming out to model each time for them. Many of them were too flashy or too formal or too revealing for your taste—although taehyung managed to convince about a couple of crop tops when Hobi agreed they didn't show too much of your stomach. You ended up with several pairs of what looked like jeans but weren't as scratchy as the denim you were used to, a couple of soft cashmere sweaters and the tops.

"What kind of weird fantasies were you playing at, Tae?" Hobi asked while you changed into your own clothes.

"Shut up. I wasn't." The alpha crossed his arms and pouted.

"You used to have a thing for goth girls, didnt you, tae tae?" He teased.

"Maybe. That's not weird. You're the one who said to try different styles."

"So you went with schoolgirl?"

"Don't talk to me."

"And that red dress really didn't suit her figure."

"Well, Hobi, I don't know as much about her figure as you do," Tae countered.

"No, you don't," Hobi smirked, because he enjoyed having something over the rest of them.

"You guys know I can hear you, right?"

Taehyung sulked. "You know who she looked like though?"

Hoseok rolled his eyes because yes, he noticed your style was similar to the casual style that Yoongi enjoyed. Not the sweats and lounge wear that the others tend to favor, but comfortable denims and sweaters. It had concerned him at first, thinking that maybe you were trying to blend with your alpha, but he could see you truly felt more comfortable and happy that way.

You finished changing and left the cubicle with the clothes you had liked best. It felt heavy in your arms beyond the weight of the fabric. Hoseok could read your thoughts on your pouted lips without you saying a word.

"Where's the green dress?"

You shrugged. "I don't need it."

"You don't have any dresses and you might want it when Yoongi takes you on another date," he told you.

"Really, Hobi, this is already too much. The dress is too nice."

He stepped forward and took the clothes from your arms, pushing them into Taehyung's hands before he cupped your cheek.

"It's not too much, pup. You barely have enough clothes to get you through the week and none of them fit you properly. These things aren't luxuries, Y/N. You need them, and that makes it his duty to provide. Do you understand?"

You closed your eyes. "No."

"Then remember that Yoongi told you it was his pleasure to buy it for you. He wouldn't like you feeling guilty or not buying something that looked so lovely on you." You hated that he could always pull that card with you, knowing you wouldn't want to disappoint your alpha. You sighed as Hoseok walked around you into the stall you just left to fetch the silky green dress that had his and Tae's jaws on the floor. Then he walked out with Taehyung leaving you to trail behind.

"You probably need some new underwear, too," Hoseok said as he passed the section.

"Absolutely not!" You protested loudly and then dropped your voice into a whisper. "I'm not letting Yoongi buy me lingerie."

Hoseok rolled his eyes. "It's not lingerie. It's just panties."

"Whatever! No!" You hissed and walked past him. "Let's just go."

When your back was to him, Hobi quickly grabbed several pairs of silky, lacey briefs and hid them under the dress in his hands as he followed you to the register.

"Don't sulk," Taehyung chided as he stood close to you, a few feet from the register while Hoseok paid. You didn't want to see the total. "I promise you, Yoongi is probably smiling like an idiot right now, happy beyond reason."

"What makes you think that?" You mumbled.

"Because I would be. Any good alpha would be happy knowing they could give you something you needed. And you do need them, if for no other reason than to feel comfortable. And for Yoongi, with you, I know it means even more."

You looked at him sidelong. "That's silly."

He shrugged. "Maybe so, but that's alphas."

"All set," Hobi smiled with a large store bag on each hand.

You hadn't realized how long your little shopping trip had taken, but it was after noon by the time you got back to the pack's house, and that meant Yoongi was home. Your heart couldn't decide whether to skip at the excitement of seeing him or to race with the worry that he would be more upset about your extravagance than his other pack realized. You weren't as in tune with Jungkook's schedule, but when you saw his cruiser parked in front of the house, that made you happy, too.

The cheerfulness of Hobi and Tae clashed immediately with the dark cloud that hung in the living room where the rest of the alphas sat with Jungkook. Yoongi had already showered, looking serious with his dark, wet hair brushed back from his face.

"What's happened?" The elder omega asked as he set the bags of clothes aside and entered the living room. "Jin?"

"It's okay, baby," Jin assured him before Hobi's mind could start to wander. "Jungkook just brought us some…" he choked on the word bad, "news."

"What is it?" You asked.

Yoongi met your eyes and held out a hand to you. "Y/N, come here."

You didn't hesitate to go to him and he pulled you between his legs to sit on his knee. His hand felt warm where it cupped your hip, his fingers pressing into you in a gesture that was oddly soothing. Then he looked at Jungkook.

The beta took a deep breath and looked at his fingertips where they met before he looked up at you. "We got news this morning that your alpha–" A low growl emanated from Yoongi's chest. "That Sebastian was determined to be in a vegetative state from which there was practically no possibility that he would ever wake. In accordance with his wishes, his wife terminated life support this morning."

You heard Hoseok's gasp, but your breathing stopped altogether. You stood up, but Yoongi's hand was reluctant to let you go. Still, you stepped away from the safety of his presence and walked a few places toward the staircase. Although you had wanted—prayed—for years that you'd never see him again, you never thought it would be your actions that would make that happen. And now that it's true and he can never see you or touch you again it doesn't do anything to diminish your fear.

Got what he deserved. And so will you.

"Did I…does that…did I kill him?" You asked after an agonizing minute of silence for the others.

Yoongi was on his feet already, hands outstretched to comfort you, following your movements as you paced. "Sweetheart, no."

"Are you here to arrest me?" You asked, looking to Jungkook.

Jungkook stood as he shook his head. "No, Y/N. Nothing is happening right now, legally speaking. It's up to the DA, and to his wife, as to what happens next. Right now we just have to wait and see. But speaking for myself, not as a cop, you didn't kill him, Y/N. You didn't do anything wrong," he tried his best to assure you.

But it didn't do any good. You were already beginning to hyperventilate. When your knees gave way, Yoongi was there to catch you. He swept you up in his arms and held you close, whispering soothing words in your ear, but they didn't stop you from sobbing into his neck.

"Yoongi, I think you should take her up to her nest," Hoseok said quietly.

He didn't wait a second before he whisked you up the stairs and down the hall to your room. He set you down in the center of your nest that you had made the night before, lingering just outside the perimeter, desperate to follow you in. But he wouldn't without permission. He couldn't.

You stared up at his with large watery eyes, looking utterly lost. He brushed back the hairs sticking to your damp cheeks.

"What do you want me to do, princess?"

You swallowed back the saliva gathered in your throat and sobbed. "I want you to hold me," you cried. "But you can't because I'm bad. And they're going to want me gone."

Yoongi shook his head. "No one is taking you anywhere without me, princess. If you want me to hold you…"

"You still want me?"

"More than ever," he breathed.

"Then will you come in my nest, alpha?"

He was beside you before you finished your question. He laid you down so that your face was in his chest, his arms and legs wrapped protectively around you like a shield.

"No getting rid of me now," he smiled into your hair as your sobs lessened and you nuzzled into him. Your tears were still flowing, but they weren't violent things anymore.

"Even if I'm a murderer?" You wondered so quietly he couldn't have had you if he wasn't right there, his breathe got against your forehead.

"Not even if you were a serial axe murderer," he grinned. You chuckled wetly in spite of yourself. "But you aren't a murder, Y/N. You didn't do anything wrong that night. You have to know that. This is just…karma." He ran his fingers through your hair, pleased when you relaxed against him.

"What if I wanted him dead?"

"Then I'd guess you'd be on a long list of people. He was a dirtbag. I've wanted him dead since the moment I learned of his existence. Does that make me a murderer?"

"No. You saved him."

Yoongi nodded. "Yeah, but if I had known who he was, I don't know what I would have done. As soon as I found out who he was, I wished I had a time machine, so I could go back and let him bleed out on the street. But then I realized how stupid that was. If I had a time machine then I would go back to before he hurt you and save you instead."

"It's a good thing you didn't let him die. Then you'd be the one in trouble," you frowned.

Yoongi tucked your head under his chin. "You're not in trouble. I'm not going to let anything happen to you. You're mine to protect now. Do you believe I can do that?"

You nodded, dragging your nose against his sternum. "Good. Then just close your eyes and rest a bit. Everything is going to be okay."

"You're not going to throw me out, right?"

He held you tighter, almost crushing you. "Never. You don't have to be good here, Y/N. You just have to be here."

His scent thickened around you, soothing your nerves, and you closed your eyes as the last of the tension left your body and you soon fell asleep.

The pack kept quiet while you slept, a silent offering of peace. But none of them left. None of these alphas would step one foot outside of the house of a distressed omega, even if you weren't technically theirs. Hoseok washed your new clothes and put them away, careful not to wake you or Yoongi, who had fallen asleep tangled around you.

When Jimin came home and heard the news, he went straight to your bedroom and climbed in on the other side of you. Yoongi looked at him in horror.

"Relax. She let me cuddle with her for a while a couple nights ago," Jimin told him. "I didn't say anything because I didn't want to make you jealous."

But Yoongi wasn't jealous. He was glad, both that you'd gotten that close with Jimin and that he could be here for you now. "Good," Yoongi whispered as Jimin settled along your back and looked into his worried eyes like a mirror.

"Everything is gonna be okay," Jimin whispered back. "Right?"

Yoongi nodded. "We'll get her through it. Whatever happens." He pressed a soft kiss to your hairline and closed his eyes again.

When you woke up a little while later you were laying half on Jimin's chest, his gentle lavender filled your nose. You moaned softly, wondering where Yoongi went. He didn't let you wonder long. You heard his phone lock before he rolled over and you felt his nose at the back of your neck.

"Hey sleepy head," he murmured.

"Mmmm," you mumbled against Jimin's chest. "Sorry."

"Don't be," he said as he stroked down your side. "How do you feel?"

"I feel weird. And hot," you groaned, assuming it was because of your packmates laying with you.

"I know. You're a furnace," Jimin mumbled.

"It's me?"

Yoongi hummed in agreement and sniffed your neck. "You're in pre-heat."

Your body went stiff and you squeezed your eyes closed with a groan.

No.

A/n: aaaahh sorry for leaving you on a cliffhanger! We will get into mc's heat next time and it will be...something! Please let me know your thoughts about this chapter and whats to come! I really love hearing from all of you!

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