#closing night skips the queue

[cryptidvoidwritings]

source

[sugary-strawberry-shortcake]

“You’re Not Supposed to Bleed” ( Yandere Older Brother! Dick Grayson x Poison Ivy’s Daughter Reader)

A/N: I’m literally typing this in a car rn. The moment it gets published (I used the queue lol) I’m probably feeding wildlife elephants in Cambodia. So it will be tough for me To answers questions immediately, but I will do so in a few days!!🩷🩷

i‘m not familiar with TWs, but just a warning Dick is a bit more crazy (he‘s a yandere tbf) than usual

She was in the bathroom again.

Door closed. Water running. Muffled footsteps back and forth.

Dick stood outside her bedroom, arms crossed, jaw tight. She had avoided movie night again, ignored three messages in the group chat, and skipped dinner—even though she said she’d be there.

It wasn’t like her.

At least… not like she used to be.

Not like the sweet little girl who would cling to his arm and giggle every time he ruffled her hair.

The one who used to beg to stay up with him and watch cartoons.

He knocked on her door.

“Little Flower?”

No answer.

He opened it anyway.

Her room smelled like lavender. Neat bed. Clean desk. Everything perfectly in place—except the corner of the sheets, where a dark stain bloomed quietly into the fabric.

Dick froze.

The smile dropped from his face instantly.

His heart slammed into his throat.

His vision went white.

Blood.

Dark. Wet. Seeping into cotton.

His hand trembled as he stepped closer. The image of her—her body, her neck, the white sheet from the morgue—flashed in his mind like lightning behind his eyes.

She was dying again.

She was dying again.

He didn’t even hear the bathroom door open.

“Dick, what the hell?!”

He spun. Fast. Like he’d been caught doing something wrong.

YN stood there, wearing a fresh shirt and an annoyed expression. Hair damp. A towel still clutched in one hand.

“What are you doing in my room?!”

“I—I knocked,” he stammered, then looked past her to the bathroom. “Are you hurt?” His eyes unlike she had ever seen.

“No?”

He pointed at the bed. “There’s blood.”

Her face shifted.

Then immediately flattened into horror. And then embarrassment.

“Oh my god.”

“Tell me what’s wrong—what happened—did someone—?”

“Dick, stop!” she snapped, cheeks red.

He blinked. Stared.

“You’re—you’re bleeding. You’re not supposed to—”

“It’s my period.”

Silence.

A long one.

She crossed her arms, glaring now. “Are you done being dramatic?”. This whole situation was just shameful to her.

Dick didn’t move.

Because his brain had stopped working.

Period.

She said period.

She said it like it was normal. Like it was allowed.

His chest tightened. His skin buzzed.

He remembered her as a toddler—barely up to his knee. Drawing stick figures with hearts. Wearing flower crowns she made from weeds. Falling asleep on his shoulder and calling him Dicky.

And now she was… bleeding. Becoming. Changing.

Growing into something he couldn’t control.

“You’re not supposed to have that,” he said softly.

She frowned. “…What?”

“You’re not supposed to be old enough.”

She stared at him. “I’m fourteen, Dick.”

He flinched at the number like it was a slap.

“You’re still little.”

“I’m not a baby.”

“You are to me.”

His voice cracked at the end.

She shifted, the tension rising in her body now—like she could feel it. The heat behind his eyes. The weight of what he wasn’t saying.

“Look, I didn’t mean to stain anything. I’ll clean it up. Just—please leave my room, okay?”

“I can help.”

“No.”

“Let me at least—”

“No, Dick.”

He stepped forward.

She didn’t.

“I can take care of myself,” she said, voice soft now. Firm, but not cruel. “You don’t need to hover over me every second of the day.”

“But if I don’t—” His voice broke. “You’ll go away again.”

She blinked. “What?”

He swallowed. His hands were still clenched at his sides.

“Nothing,” he whispered.

“Dick.”

He looked at her. He saw Bruce in the way her jaw set when she was angry. He saw Ivy in the way her eyes went glassy when she was holding back tears. But underneath all of it—he still saw her. The little girl. The soft one. The one with dandelion wishes and grass-stained knees.

He told himself she was still little. Still his Little Flower. But girls didn’t bleed when they were little. And that scared the hell out of him.

“I just want you to stay my Little Flower.”

“I never stopped being her.”

Her voice was kind. Gentle.

But she didn’t come closer.

And she didn’t hug him.

Later that night, he sat alone on the edge of his bed, the stained sheet clutched in his lap.

He hadn’t let her wash it.

He hadn’t thrown it out.

She was fourteen. Fourteen, and she’d had her first period without a single Wayne there to hold her hand. To sit beside her. To tell her it was okay. He should’ve been there. He was her brother. He was the oldest. He was supposed to be the one who kept her from feeling like she was alone in the middle of a house full of people.

She deserved a brother who noticed.

She deserved a family that stayed.

And he was going to give her that now, whether she wanted it or not.

[xoxo-sarah]

Hello my love I have a request for a reader who is like best friends Stevie and you know he’s a caretaker of the group, so she kind of is too anyways she is the caretaker always the mom of the group and everything but he can pick up on some signs that maybe she doesn’t wanna always take care of everybody else like maybe she wants to be taken care of, and he slowly starts doing things for her. But maybe she is reluctant to accept the help so she kinda gets snippy at him queue a frustrated, love confession from Stevie to her. Ends happy because my life is in shambles and I need a happy ending.

Distant

↝a/n: thank you for requesting. I hope you enjoy! 🩷

↝pairing: Steve Harrington x female!reader

|| Disclaimer: I do not own Steve Harrington, or any character from Stranger Things. I only own y/n and any characters I create with my own brain. ||

↝⎙ 12.20.24

Steve had always been the caretaker of the group. Whether it was driving the kids around or making sure everyone was safe, he was the go-to guy. But there was someone else who shared this role with him—his best friend, you. You were the “mom” of the group, always looking out for everyone and making sure things were in order.

You had become close to the kids shortly after Steve had. Dustin liked you, liked how Steve acted when you were around. It was also fun for Dustin to pick at Steve when you weren't around; talking about how Steve would blush when you looked at him. You never seemed to notice, though.

It wasn't unusual for you and Steve to be attached at the hip. You pretty much thought as one. One followed after the other. So it was natural when you took the group of kids under your wing. You would do anything for them. That was evident when you had a stern talking-to with a group of kids that were messing with Dustin's group at school. You had spent countless nights making and bringing them food when they were busy playing DND. You always made sure they had a ride home. Or, if they needed to go somewhere, you were the first to call. It became a habit to pick Steve up on the way, if he wasn't already with you when you got the call.

It was fun, spending time with them. They were funny and nice, a contrast to other kids their age.

But, all the times playing “mom” could be tiring. It seemed like every time you got the call, you would drop everything. They needed you, why would you decline?

It was one specific night when you had finally had enough.

Dustin kicked Lucas' feet out of the way, walking toward the phone. He knew your number by heart. Honestly, it's a surprise the number hadn't worn off from how much he typed it in. The phone rang…and rang. Usually, you would've picked up by now. Dustin turned, looking at the clock. 2:37 pm. You were off work today. You typically answer. Plucking the phone back into the base, Dustin turned, eyebrows furrowed. “She didn't answer.”

“How are we supposed to get to the arcade?” Mike sat up straighter, kicking himself for breaking the chain on his bike. Nancy was at Jonathan's, and his parents were out with Holly.

“Call Steve.” Lucas looked at Dustin like that was the obvious answer.

Nodding, Dustin turned back to the phone.

“She didn't answer my call either.”

Steve sighed, turning down the familiar street. The other kids were squashed in the back of Steve's car as Dustin sat in the passenger seat. The kid was quick to tell Steve about his worries. Sure, you just didn't answer the house phone. But that wasn't like you. If you had missed it, you always called back. Or called from Steve's house phone.

“Maybe she isn't home.” Mike watched the trees out the window. Truthfully, he just wanted to go to the arcade. He had a high score to beat. Yours, specifically.

Pulling into your driveway, Steve unbuckled, before getting out. Your car was parked in front of his. “I'll ask if she wants to come with.”

Steve practically skipped to the door, knocking and waiting. It took a few moments before you opened the door. “Hey,” Steve took in your appearance. You looked tired, sleep clumped at the corners of your eyes, eye bags apparent. “Uh, the kids were wondering if you wanted to come with us to the arcade.” He used his thumb to point behind him, where the kids were watching.

“Um,” You opened your mouth, looking at the kids, before furrowing your brows. “You know, I actually have to catch up on some sleep.”

“Oh, okay. Dustin was worried about you. You didn't answer his calls or mine.”

“Yeah,” I have a life outside of you and the kids. I don't have to constantly drop everything to play pretend and do their parents job. “I was asleep.” You weren't going to tell him about how you listened as the phone rang, not daring to even get up from the couch.

“alright, just wanted to check up on you.” Steve turned, not wanting to leave, but feeling like you wanted him to.

You smiled, “thanks, and sorry. Enjoy dealing with those hooligans all by yourself.”

Steve laughed, before you closed the door.

~

Days passed, and it was always the same answer. You had other stuff to do. Until Steve came to visit you at work. He saw you through the window, laughing with a coworker. You looked like you. He missed it.

“I'm having a little get-together at my house tonight. You should come. Food, board games, movies. Everything you love.” Steve smiled, begging you with his eyes.

For some reason, you couldn't say no this time around.

As you all gathered at Steve's house for a movie night, he noticed something different about you. You seemed a bit more tired, your smile a little less bright. You were still taking care of everyone, getting everyone snacks, making sure everyone liked the movie before it was put in, but Steve could see the weariness in your eyes.

You didn't pay attention to the movie, mind elsewhere.

“What's going on?” Steve had asked, after everyone was asleep, and you helped clean up.

“What do you mean?”

You didn't meet his eyes, instead focusing on grabbing the candy wrappers and throwing them away.

“You're distant. You don't answer the phone anymore. Did I do something? Did one of them do something?”

“No.” You sighed, “No one did anything. I just…I'm tired. I don't want to be the caretaker all the time.”

Steve slowly nodded, letting you know he was actually listening.

“I mean, I've had to drop so many things just to take them somewhere or pick them up. I have my own life, you know. I have a job so I can pay bills. If I wanted to be a mom, I would have kids myself.” You hated how that made you sound. You felt selfish for wanting time for yourself, but it's just how it is. They're not your kids, you're not their mom. You're a young adult that has to live life without the constant burden of children.

“You don't have to. I'll talk to them-”

“No. Don't do that. It's fine.”

“It's obviously not fine. You're having to ignore us just to get some free time. I'll talk to them.”

You dropped the trash bag, looking up at him. “I said no. It's not that big of a deal.” You huffed, moving around the living room toward the door.

Steve watched as you grabbed your stuff and left.

He knew first hand how it was to be the caretaker of the group. He found it easier to do with you by his side. But obviously, it wasn't like that for you.

Maybe you wanted someone to take care of you for a change.

Steve started doing little things for you. He'd stop by your house to bring you snacks without you asking. He brought you flowers once, claiming it was from him and the kids, for burdening you. Steve tried to do stuff for you, but you were reluctant to accept his help. You'd always been the one to take care of others, and it was challenging to let someone else do that for you. Sometimes, you'd even get snippy with him, telling him you could handle it yourself.

~

You finally came around again- not as much as before, but you didn't decline their calls anymore.

One night, after a particularly long day, Steve found you in his kitchen, cleaning up after everyone else had left. He walked over and took the dish from your hand.

“Steve, I can do it,” you said, your voice tinged with frustration.

“Why won't you let me help you?” he asked, his tone equally frustrated.

“Because I don't need your help!” you snapped back, but your voice cracked, betraying your true feelings.

Steve put the dish down and turned to you, his eyes filled with concern. “You don't always have to be the strong one, you know. It's okay to let someone else take care of you for once.”

You looked at him, tears welling up in your eyes. “But what if I don't know how to let go?”

Steve stepped closer, gently cupping your face in his hands. “Then let me show you,” he whispered. “Because I love you, and I want to be there for you, just like you've always been there for everyone else.”

Your breath hitched at his words, “You… you love me?”

“Yes,” Steve said, his voice firm and sincere. “I love you, and I want to take care of you. So please, let me.”

You felt a weight lift off your shoulders as you finally allowed yourself to lean into his embrace. “Okay,” you whispered, your voice soft and full of relief. “Okay.”

Steve smiled, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead. “We'll figure it out together,” he said. “One step at a time.”

As the days passed, Steve made it his mission to show you that it was okay to let someone else be there for you. He'd surprise you with your favorite coffee in the morning, leave little notes of encouragement on your bedside table before he leaves at night, and always be there with a listening ear when you needed to vent. Slowly, but surely, you began to let your guard down and accept his help.

~

One Saturday afternoon, Steve took you to a quiet spot by the lake. The sun was setting, casting a golden glow over the water. You sat together on a blanket, watching the ducks swim by.

“Thank you,” you said softly, breaking the comfortable silence.

“For what?” Steve asked, looking at you with a gentle smile.

“For everything,” you replied. “For being there for me, for showing me that it's okay to lean on someone else.”

Steve reached out and took your hand in his. “You don't have to thank me,” he said. “I care about you, and I want to be there for you. Always.”

You leaned your head on his shoulder, feeling a sense of peace and contentment that you hadn't felt in a long time. “I love you, Steve,” you whispered.

“I love you too,” he replied, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. “And I'm not going anywhere.”

As the sun dipped below the horizon, you knew that you had finally found someone who would always be there for you, no matter what. And for the first time in a long while, you felt like everything was going to be okay.

•2021-2024 by xoxo-sarah on Tumblr•

•My work is not to be translated, copied, modified, and/or reposted on any other site without my permission. [I don't give permission!]

[just1cefor4ll]

How do I use this again?

Severus Snape x wife!reader Summary: You teach Severus how to use social media and become his little ‘manager’ :3 A/N: sorry if this wasn’t what you had in mind anon, i hope you like it tho!

s.snape

posts followers following

2 107 4

Severus Snape

Account ran by @.y/n.s my lovely wife

followed by minnie.mcgonagall, .y/n.s and 20 others

s.snape

🐈‍⬛🍂 @.y/n.s

liked by .y/n.s, harryypotterz, granger.h and 57 others

harryypotterz and 4 others commented

harryypotterz: how did such a cold hearted person end up with someone like proffesor L/N?

╰➤ .y/n.s replied: he’s truly just a big softie behind closed doors ❤️

╰➤ rweasleyy replied: won’t believe it until I see it

╰➤ f.seamus: no face no case

You giggled at the comments of the post, your head laying on Severus’ chest while he read some book about potions you got him not long ago as a gift. He raised a brow and put the book down, looking down at your phone to see you’ve made what you called a “post” on instagram. Severus was new to this whole social media thing, never really having the need to have such modern things he deemed useless but once you came into his life it was like everything shifted and you introduced him to such media.

“May I ask what’s so funny, love?” He asks in a suspicious tone which made you giggle even more, handing him the phone. He read the comments, looking baffled yet confused at some of the things written under the photos he had taken that day on your outing. He specifically asked for those photos when you suggested to post them and his heart warmed at the sight of you all dolled up and pretty; not that you weren’t pretty when you had a lazy day of course you were! He quite literally adored you and couldn’t keep his eyes off you even if you were covered in gilly weed! That pretty much sums up what kind of a person Severus is; a loving, caring, thoughtful partner. Even if it was hard for him to express what he was feeling at times you were always by his side no matter what, and that’s what you plan on doing until the day you perish.

“What does he mean by ‘no face no case’” He asks and you try your best to contain your laughter. “It pretty much means the same thing what Ron said. Unless he sees you actually being a big softie, he won’t believe it.” You give him a sheepish smile, pointing at what you said and the other replies as you explain. He furrows his brows at your comment, yet his heart skipped a beat at the loving title. “Big softie, hm?” You nod, giggling for the rest of the night while Severus only pondered on why such a thing made you a laughing mess.

.y/n.s

my darling boy ❤️ @.s.snape

liked by s.snape, cchang, granger.h and 87 others

cchang and 7 others commented

cchang: what a lovely couple you are professor!

╰➤ .y/n.s replied: ❤️❤️

granger.h: love the jacket proffesor :)

╰➤ .y/n.s replied: thank you miss granger<3

s.snape: I love you ❤️

╰➤ rweasleyy replied: simp

╰➤ .y/n.s replied: weasley don’t test my patience :3 i love you too sev ❤️

You were just about done with getting ready for the Yule Ball that you and every student in Hogwarts has been looking forward to ever since the start of the school year. You’ve never been more excited to dress up, trying to look your best that one night but your dress just wasn’t zipping up. It’s not like it didnt fit, it definitely did but it was stuck for some reason and your arms were killing you.

As if on queue Severus stepped into the room in a suit with your heels in hand. “I suppose you need help with that?” He asks teasingly, moving his hand to the zipper while the other hand rested on your waist. He carefully zipped the dress up and kissed your temple with a quiet ‘smooch’ handing you the shoes so you could pull everything together finally. He sat down on the love seat you had in your shared chambers, being sure if anyone was to walk in that they’d see hearts in his pupils. That night you had the most fun with the students, dancing along to bands you grew up with and of course full filing your duty as a professor which meant keeping an eye on your students to make sure they don’t do anything funny.

By the end of the night most of the students were either sleeping on the chairs, out in the hallways or already in the quiet comfort of their dormitories where you couldn’t wait to go and rest your aching feet. When you fell asleep in your and Severus’ shared bed, Severus took out his phone and opened instagram. ‘How does she do this again?’ He thought to himself and furrowed his brows in deep thought. He later figured it out and once he finished his ‘mischief’ he lied down, holding you in his arms as if you were the rarest being in the world; which to him you were.

s.snape

And, darling, when the morning comes and I see the morning sun, I wanna be the one with you 🤍 @.y/n.s

liked by minnie.mcgonagall, albusdumbledore and 3 others

albusdumbledore and 1 other commented

albusdumbledore: it’s so nice to see young love during these challenging times 🙂

╰➤ draco.malf0yy replied: not so sure about young lmfaoo

© URFAVLARRY

DO NOT REPOST, TRANSLATE OR COPY ANY OF MY WRITING TO OTHER PLATFORMS

[stewpidcheescatarinabluu]

“It was late at night, you held on tight”

Synopsis: A carefree night out with friends takes a sudden turn when your best friend Minji texts you out of nowhere. You didn’t expect anything serious—until she asks you to come over with a kind of honesty that makes your heart skip.

Word Count: 1,480

Minji X Male Reader

It was a blissful night.

Just a normal night out with friends.

A stop at the convenience store like it was tradition, a half-planned road trip with music spilling into the night sky. Everything felt light. Easy. The car windows were down, laughter bouncing off the metal, your favorite playlist rotating through like a soundtrack to a movie you didn’t know you were starring in.

“We should hit up that one spot,” someone suggested. “The one with the bomb fries.”

“Oh! Near 52nd Street? Let’s go!”

“What do ya think, Y/N?”

You grinned. “I’m up for anything.”

The car picked up speed as the road opened up. The sky above stretched wide and clear, dotted with stars. You leaned back in your seat, pulling out your phone to queue the next song when a message lit up the screen

Minji: hey loser, you free?

You blinked. Minji rarely texted you during nights like this—she usually kept her distance when she knew you were out.

You: im outside, why?

The reply came quick.

Minji: nvm, take care.

Short. Abrupt.

Something about it tugged at you.

“Yo, Y/N, you tryna buy some fries ye?” someone called out from the front.

“Yeah, yeah. Hold on.”

You stared at your screen. Thought about it.

Then hit call.

A chorus of teasing erupted around you.

“Ooh, calling someone?”

“It’s Minji, isn’t it?”

“Just date her already, man.”

“Shut up,” you muttered, holding the phone to your ear.

She picked up after two rings.

Her voice was clipped. “What. Why’d you call? Aren’t you busy?”

“Mhm,” you said, smiling despite yourself. “But I decided to call anyway, dumbo. What are you doing?”

“Studying,” she muttered. “You?”

“Near 52nd. Not far from your place.”

“Oh. Cool.”

A pause.

“Take care, Y/N.”

“Yeah, yeah. Thanks.”

She hung up.

An Hour Later

You were finally seated, tray of fries in front of you. Golden, crispy, and completely overpriced.

“$25 for fries? We seriously need a financial advisor for our friend group,” you said, eyeing the mountain of carbs.

“For real,” someone laughed. “Hope this sh*t’s heavenly.”

You reached for the first fry—

Then your phone buzzed.a

Another message from Minji.

Minji: can you come over? please?

You stared.

A second later, another message arrived.

Minji: hey Y/N… can you come over please? I miss you.

Everything else faded out—the chatter, the fries, the playlist still running in the background. You stood up almost immediately.

“Hey, something just came up,” you said, grabbing your phone. “I gotta go.”

“Huh? You good?”

“You want me to drop you off somewhere?”

You shook your head. “No thanks. I’ll be fine. See you guys later.”

The streets were quieter now, the rush of the night slowly folding into stillness. You walked faster than usual, phone clenched in your hand, re-reading her words with a small, helpless smile growing on your lips.

I miss you.

Minji never said things like that. Not directly.

When you reached her front door, you didn’t even knock. She had already unlocked it. As if she knew you’d come.

You found her in her room, sitting on the bed, still wearing her hoodie, hair a little messy from leaning over textbooks. Her eyes flicked up when she saw you. She didn’t speak.

Neither did you.

You just stepped in, dropped your bag by the door, and asked softly, “So… what’s up, loser?”

She let out a breath that sounded too much like a sigh of relief.

“I just… didn’t wanna be alone tonight.”

Your chest tugged.

“Then I’m here,” you said. “Simple as that.”

Minji didn’t reply.

She just scooted over, lifting the edge of her blanket—just a little.

You took the invitation without a second thought

You sat beside her, the air thick with quiet warmth. Minji tucked her knees under her blanket, hugging them close like it was the only way to keep herself grounded.

“What happened?” you asked gently.

She hesitated, fingers picking at the threads of the blanket.

“…Nothing,” she finally whispered. “Just feeling extra lonely tonight. With all these papers and notes, I feel numb. And I need a break.”

You tilted your head, watching her profile under the dim light of her desk lamp. There was a faint crease in her brow, a heaviness in her eyes. You didn’t like seeing her like that.

“Whatchu wanna do?” you asked, voice soft but light, like you were trying to lift the air between you.

She looked over, lips twitching into the smallest smile. “Dunno. Just… anything but thinking.”

You nodded slowly. “Wanna make fun of bad movie trailers until we pass out?”

A faint laugh escaped her. “That actually sounds amazing

You queued the first trailer, something dramatic and low-budget, filled with jump cuts and a suspicious amount of slow-mo.

Minji sat close—too close. Her shoulder brushed yours every time she shifted, and her knee lightly bounced against yours under the blanket she’d tugged over both of you. Neither of you mentioned it.

“Okay,” you said, smirking, “this one’s called Space Heist 3: Moonblood. Thoughts?”

She raised an eyebrow. “Why are they on a horse? In space?”

“That’s exactly what I’m wondering.”

Minji let out a soft laugh, her head tilting just slightly until it leaned into you again—less like an accident this time.

You didn’t move.

The next trailer started playing, but your attention flickered—trailing from the screen to the way her fingers absentmindedly fidgeted with the corner of the blanket, then to the curve of her smile when something ridiculous happened on screen.

“You always do this,” she said suddenly.

“Do what?”

She turned to look at you, and it felt too quiet. Too still.

“You always show up right when I need you most.”

You tried to play it off with a crooked smile. “You did ask nicely.

She didn’t smile back right away.

Her gaze dropped to your lips—just for a second. Barely there.

You swallowed.

The laptop lit both your faces in flickering colors, but neither of you looked at it anymore.

“…Minji.”

“Yeah?”

You hesitated. Everything between you was loud now—the closeness, the warmth, the unspoken words that hung in the air like static.

“You’re really bad at watching trailers,” you said instead, voice low.

Her grin returned, but slower this time. “Guess I’m distracted.”

You hid the fact that the moment you heard her words you’re a walking ball of flames.

The next trailer started without either of you noticing, the volume just a background hum to the thudding pulse in your chest.

Minji leaned a little closer, not noticing at first, but the heat from her body radiated through the space between you. Her breath brushed your arm as she shifted, eyes still glued to the screen, though her focus seemed to drift more and more.

You could feel it. The almost electric energy humming between you, making the air in the room feel thicker.

You swallowed again, trying to focus, but your gaze kept slipping back to her—the way her lips moved as she mumbled under her breath at something ridiculous on the screen, the slight tilt of her chin when she laughed, and the way her eyes flicked to you in a glance so fleeting it almost didn’t register.

Your heart stuttered.

Why am I feeling like this?

“Y/N?” Minji’s voice was soft, so much quieter now, almost like she wasn’t sure if she wanted to ask the question.

“Yeah?” You turned toward her, leaning just a little.

For a long moment, she didn’t speak. She just looked at you—her eyes searching yours, her lips parted like she might say something, but instead, the air between you grew heavier.

Then, she shifted again, closer this time, and you didn’t pull away. You couldn’t.

She was close enough now that you could feel the warmth of her breath, just a fraction of an inch away. You didn’t know who moved first—maybe it was both of you—but suddenly, her lips were on yours.

It was soft, tentative at first, like the world might stop spinning if you held on too long. But then her hand brushed against your cheek, and something inside you snapped.

You leaned into the kiss, a gentle pressure at first, then deeper. Minji responded with the same hesitation, her lips meeting yours with a kind of urgency that made the room feel smaller, the space between you collapsing until there was nothing but the softness of her touch, the sweetness of her breath mingling with yours.

When you finally pulled away, it was as if the world had caught up with you. Both of you were breathless, staring at each other, unsure of what came next.

“…You’re still bad at watching trailers,” you murmured, breaking the tension.

Minji blinked, her lips curling into a quiet, breathless laugh. “Shut up, Y/N.”

She leaned in again, and this time, there was nothing tentative about it.

[wilwheaton]

At the Saturns earlier this year, we saw Nic Cage accept for Renfield. He gave this intense and sensational acceptance speech that included references to Dali, Bosch, and Picasso, in a celebration of surrealist art. His speech was so fantastic, and his energy was so compelling, I moved Renfield and Willy's Wonderland to the top of my queue.

Holy crap I loved them both, and I loved his performances so much I bought a ticket for a seat on the Cage Train.

So when I saw the trailer for Longlegs, I got real excited to check it out, and made time to watch it last night.

It's almost two-thirds of a really great movie that can't decide if it's a supernatural thriller or a procedural manhunt. The photography, editing, visual design and sound design are all incredible. I LOVE the way this movie looks. The performances are all solid and interesting … and all of this can't save a script that ultimately doesn't know what it's really about.

The third act is such a disappointing, rambling, confusing mess, it feels like maybe it tested poorly and they tried to save it with a lot of voice over and flashbacks that I guess are there to hold our hands and tell us that, yes, this thing we all figured out twenty minutes ago, meant to be a big twist, is what we thought it was.

I low key resent it when a movie is so interesting and entertaining for most of the way, only to completely fall apart and just stumble into the closing credits.

Final grade is 2 out of 5. Skip it.

[sethsclearwater]

poly paul and seth

they’re all riled up at emily’s house so disappear to the bathroom for a quickie but it’s quite intense so reader falls into the subspace and the boys dont notice until they’ve left the bathroom

"you all good pretty girl?" seth asked as he helped you off the counter of emily's bathroom, sliding his hands over your hips as he waited for you to respond.

you hummed and nodded, smiling up at seth before your gaze drifted over to your other imprinter who was stepping over to open the bathroom door so the three of you could head back out to the living room with the rest of the pack.

"you got it," paul reassured, a teasing smile tugging at his lips as he refrained his laughter over how flustered you looked after getting fucked senseless by the two boys just a few minutes prior.

you beamed at the praise, allowing seth to guide you out of the bathroom and into the living room where the rest of the pack was in fits of laughter over the wrestling match currently happening on the floor between embry and quil.

seth was quick to guide you out of the line of destruction the two boys were creating, helping you over to one of the open couches so the three of you could sit down and chill out for a little bit. as you sat down on the couch, seth went to go grab you a blanket but you were almost immediately tightening your hand on his and looking up at him pleadingly, anxious he wasn't going to come back.

seth paused when he saw the way you were looking at him and your other imprinter seemed to pick up on it as well, both boys turning their attention to you. "hey pretty girl," seth cooed, coming to sit back down next to you on the couch, cupping your face with his free hand.

you let out a soft sigh at the touch, immediately leaning into his hand, "you feelin' okay?" he asked softly, both boys watching as you thought about it for half a second before humming and nodding.

seth let out a sigh, looking over at paul who groaned when they realized you had definitely managed to slip into the subspace while they were fucking you not even 5 minutes prior, "you didn't do anything with her today, right?" seth asked, gently rubbing his thumb against your jaw as he waited for paul to respond.

paul shook his head, "not since last night," he reassured before turning his attention back to you, "princess do you wanna lay with me for a little bit?" he asked, voice softening as he spoke to you. both boys watched you wearily, not exactly sure how to bring you back with all the ruckus currently happening around you.

as if on queue, quil slammed into the couch you were sitting on, nearly knocking it backwards from how hard embry must've thrown him a few moments prior. you barely noticed seeing as paul had pulled you into his lap before you could get too rattled from the jolt.

"what the fuck is wrong with you two?" paul asked, glaring at quil who was now laying on the floor and letting out a loud groan as he gathered his bearings. quil only briefly apologized before he was getting back up and throwing himself on top of jacob who currently had embry in a rather strong looking headlock.

"y/n can you come into the kitchen for a minute? i need some help," emily called, drawing your's, paul's, and seth's attention to the doorway of the kitchen where emily was smiling at you.

you hummed and nodded, moving to get up but paul's grip remained firm on your waist, "you should stay here for a minute princess," paul suggested, leaning down to press his lips to your forehead. his voice managed to remain awfully calm despite how freaked out both him and seth were by the prospect of having to manage you in the subspace with everyone else around.

"i got it!" you reassured, smiling up at paul and pressing a playful kiss to his lips before you were squirming out of his grasp and skipping into the kitchen to meet emily.

"hey princess," emily teased when she saw you come into the kitchen, paul and seth following closely behind you as you got yourself up on the counter to sit.

seth's hands were on your hips in a moment, helping you get situated on the counter while paul went to go get you some water from the fridge, "everything okay?" emily asked softly, turning her attention to seth when she also realized just how blown out your pupils were from the subspace and how your hair was pulled into a rather messy ponytail - definitely not how you had originally looked when you first arrived at emily's a few hours earlier.

seth sighed and paul rolled his eyes with a groan as he handed you a water bottle, helping you hold it while you took a few sips, "is she..." emily started, voice trailing off as she looked from you to both boys, already knowing all too well how easily you could be pushed into the subspace seeing as this regularly happened with her as well.

seth sucked in a breath before nodding, his gaze softening as he looked over to emily, "it was an accident," he explained, "you wouldn't happen to have any ideas on how to help would you?" he asked, both him and emily letting out breathy laughs at seth's question.

before either boy could get too flustered over the situation, emily was nodding, "i've got some tea that she can have," she reassured, "why don't you sit at the table with her and i'll go make some?" she suggested, smiling when both boys let out relieved exhales.

"you're the best," seth smiled, pulling her into a tight hug which had emily laughing before he was releasing her so him and paul could help you over to the kitchen table and work on bringing you back.

[skzdarlings]

vexatious vixen ; felix x reader ; part 1/2

masterlist.

PART 1/2. READ PART 1 HERE. ( READ ON AO3. )

You always get what you want. When an unassuming security guard named Felix stops your latest venture, you escalate the stakes until he has no choice but to put you in your place.

pairing: lee felix/reader content info: romantic comedy. strangers to enemies to lovers. handcuffs. cat-and-mouse. eventual smut will be kinky dom/sub dynamics, dom!felix and sub!reader. (chapter word count: 7400 words.)

-

Seungmin is one of your best friends and also a conniving master of manipulation.  Being a malevolent source of wicked verbal wizardry, he convinced you and Minho that it would be totally super easy to sneak into the Hwang Hyunjin concert.  It’s only the final night of the pop-star’s sold-out world tour and the most anticipated concert of the year.  What could go wrong?  

It sounded like a good idea when Seungmin said it.  Now the three of you are standing in a pushy crowd of overeager fans with some very intimidating looking security guards at the end of the queue. 

“Reconvene,” you say.  You grab the boys by their scruff and drag them out of the line. 

“Ah, hey!” Minho snaps at you like piranha.

You release him to grab Seungmin by his collar.  “You better have an idea for getting us past security,” you say, “because I do not like the look of the Incredible Hulk up there.”

The three of you look at the shortstack beefcake who looks like he could bench all three of you at the same time. 

“Yeaaaah,” Seungmin says.  He flashes you a not-so-innocent smile as his strawberry-pink bangs flop into his eyes.  “I didn’t really think this far ahead.  I thought you’d have a plan.”

“Why would I have a plan?” you ask.  “This whole thing was your idea.  Seungmin.”  You drag him close so your noses touch, going cross-eyed at the proximity.  It does not lessen the severity of your frustration when you state, “I waxed for this.  And you know how I feel about waxing.” 

“You waxed?” Minho asks loudly.  It draws a few glances your way which might be because Minho is so loud, or might be because he’s so good looking, or a combination of the two.  His dark eyes narrow at you like you’re a completely alien creature.   “Why would you wax for a concert?” he asks. 

“Wax,” Seungmin parrots.  Your hands are on his collar like you intend to shake him up but it doesn’t deter him asking, “Like… like wax-wax?  Like your human body waxed?”

“Like your human pussy?” Minho asks.  “For a concert?  What did you think was gonna happen?”  He is on the very visible verge of hysterical laughter when a thought lights his eyes.  “Wait,” he says.  “I know how we can get in—”

���Oh my god,” you say.  You shove Seungmin and grab Minho by the collar instead.  “I’m not fucking our way in.  And I waxed,” you drop your voice, “just in case.”

“Just in case…?” Minho tips his head.  “Just in case you had to fuck your way in…?”

“Oh my god,” you say.  You push him away too.  “Never mind.”

“Did you think Hyunjin was going to summon you out of the crowd for a green room quickie?”  Seungmin asks with a shit-eating grin. 

Minho cackles.  “No way she’d even go,” he says.  “She doesn’t get summoned.  She likes to be chased.” 

“She is walking away now,” you say.    

“Bet she’ll walk away quickly,” Seungmin says.  “She waxed so she’ll be aerodynamic.”

You stomp away from the stadium but only make it a few steps before Seungmin runs in front of you. 

“We can’t just give up here,” Seungmin says.  “We made it this far already.”

“One bus stop?” you ask dryly.  “We literally live like five minutes away—”

“Exactly!” Seungmin says.  “That’s called destiny.”

“We might as well try,” Minho says.  He cups a hand over his eyes to look at the stadium in the fading light of the sun.  “We all got dressed up.  Seungmin skipped a class.  You waxed.” 

“There’s no way we’re getting through those doors,” you say. 

“We’ve done it before,” Seungmin says.  He turns you to face the stadium and massages your shoulders like a boxing coach, all the while regaling you with tales of your past victories.  “Remember all the other concerts we snuck into?  The sports games?  That celebrity wedding—”   

“Well,” Minho interrupts, “we did get arrested at that one.” 

“Yeah and we got arrested together,” Seungmin says, “because that’s what friends do.” 

“I don’t know why,” you say, “but for some reason this is working.”  Maybe it’s Seungmin’s words, or Minho’s cologne, or maybe it’s the soft glow of a perfect summer sunset as it pours over the stadium like a pink-orange waterfall.  Or maybe it’s because this really is the concert of the year, and you love a challenge, and you fucking waxed. 

You throw your head back and sigh, soulfully resigning yourself to your imminent fate.

“Fine,” you say.  “So how are we doing this?”   

“Don’t worry,” Seungmin says thoughtfully.  “I think I have a plan.”

Seungmin proceeds to explain the plan.  It is hardly the pinnacle of heist endeavours but is more feasible than rappelling down the stadium walls into the concert arena.

Basically, the plan is to find a group of people with a solitary ticket holder and leech onto their tail with the hopes security will miscount the party and let you sneak past.  It means you will have to split up because security will definitely notice three extra people.  You will then hopefully reunite inside the arena.

You scamper around the periphery of the stadium, perusing lines for oblivious groups of excited fans with an e-ticket-wielding ringleader.  You also double-check which security guards seem the most lax or checked out. 

“I get that one,” Minho says. 

He points to a trim, athletic guard with floppy brown hair and a giggly smile.  You and Seungmin protest because that guard is an easy mark so you all want him, but Minho takes off running for the queue. 

The thing about Lee Minho is that he never hauls ass.  He coasts through life with a casual slouch, but he is completely capable of annihilating everyone if he deigns to do so. 

He does.  So he did.

You and Seungmin look around.  Your grin widens when you spy the next easiest target.

“Aha!” you say.  “I call dibs on that one!  Good luck, Seungmin!”

“Hey!” Seungmin bellows.

He is far too late.  You are already booking it towards the line with a pretty, chipper, skinny security guard.  He is in jeans and a loose windbreaker that says SECURITY across the back, about the only indication he is a man of any authority.  His hair is a vibrant, neon blue and is delicately styled, long enough to pull back in a pretty half-ponytail.  His features are sharp, cheekbones sloping, but there is a natural tenderness to his whole countenance.  He doesn’t have a mean bone in his body. 

Also, he really is lean.  Worst case scenario, you can probably push your way past him and disappear into the crowd before he can do anything about it.  

You find a group of girls to sidle alongside anyway.  You are satisfied you will easily slip into the stadium. 

The group reaches the front of the line, a couple of them giggling at the security guard’s friendly attention.  His name tag reads Felix, a cute name for a cute guy.  Up close, you can see a smattering of dark freckles across his face, as well as a few playful glitter stars for the concert.  He is admittedly pretty but as a professional gate crasher, you refrain from distraction.  You successfully avoid his gaze and stick close to the girl in front of you. 

Felix gives them each a friendly nod, smiling brightly.  He laughs at one of their comments and it’s a charming, low sound. 

“Enjoy the show, ladies,” he says, his voice about a hundred decibels deeper than you expected.  

Maybe that’s what trips you up.  It has to be something, because you were doing everything right.  But just as you go to follow the girls into the arena, a skinny arm shoots out and you smack right into it.   

“Sorry,” Felix says.  He drops his arm and smiles.  “I just need to see your ticket.” 

“My…?”  You look ahead at the group of girls, but they are already gone.  Oops.  “Ha, ha,” you say, looking at Felix. 

He is staring back at you, still smiling a close-lipped smile.  He blinks a couple times then lifts an eyebrow.

“Uh, ticket?” he says.  He holds out his hand.  

“Right,” you say.  You smile at him with all the saccharine sweetness you can.  “I have funny story about that, Felix,” you say. 

“Hm.”  His smile turns into a line, eyes narrowing as he looks at you.  “And what’s that?” 

“Well, you see…”

It’s all you say before you bolt, fast on your feet.  You sprint for the entryway behind the guarded queue.  There’s a crowd inside and you’re an expert at disappearing into a crowd.  You just need to get in there and find your boys then you are home free.  Hwang Hyunjin, here you come. 

There’s just one problem.  

Felix is fast.  

Like, track star fast.  Like, road runner fast.  Like, you’re that dumb coyote getting an anvil dropped on your head, except this anvil is a skinny blue-haired Australian with a voice like a god and the apparent hidden strength of one too. 

You make it a few desperate steps before Felix literally sweeps you off your feet.  You shriek when he hauls you under his arm, dragging you away from the stadium door.  He deposits you a few feet from the queue then swiftly resumes his position. 

“Hello,” he says to the next person in line.  “Sorry about that.  Ticket?”   

Your mouth is agape.  

No one has ever got the jump on you like that.

“Hey!” you say, but Felix has moved on.  He is smiling at the next guest as he checks their ticket, not paying you any mind.  “Excuse me,” you say, despite the people between you and him.  “I think there’s been a misunderstanding.  I do have a ticket.”

“Uh-huh,” Felix says.  He doesn’t look at you, scanning someone’s e-ticket with a little device.  It lights up green and he smiles at them.  “Enjoy the show,” he says. 

You jump into the queue, cutting off the next person.  Felix’s smile vanishes and is replaced with an astoundingly sassy expression.

“Uh, this line is for ticket-holders,” he says. 

“I have a ticket,” you say.  You unzip your purse and spend a minute rifling around, ignoring him when he sighs.  He apologizes to the people behind you.  You turn and offer a tight-lipped apology of your own.  “I was in line,” you say, as if they didn’t just witness this ten-pound bully haul you around like a sack of potatoes.  “There was just a misunderstanding.”

Felix rolls his eyes. 

You pull out your cell phone and flip through a folder of fake screenshotted tickets, hoping at least one of them marginally resembles the tickets for tonight.  You pick one and flash it at Felix. 

“Happy?” you say with a lot of false indignation.  You turn off the screen when Felix goes to grab your phone.  You give him a snooty, squinty-eyed look, then saunter right past him. 

This time when he comes after you, you are better prepared for his speed.   You zig-zag and he stumbles, cussing very unprofessionally.  You make it all the way to the door before he grabs you.  You have no idea where he is getting all that muscle because he feels like a sturdy stick when you grab at him, but he puts you over his shoulder like it’s easy. 

“Um, excuse me!” you shout.  “Hello!  Someone film this!  I’m being assailed!”

Felix intentionally jostles you on his shoulder.  He is even less gentle when he drops you this time, though you do manage to keep your footing. 

“Try that again,” Felix says, “and it will be trouble.  Got it?” 

Felix is very good looking.  He’s an incredible combination of pretty and handsome, not to mention that voice, guh.  But what gets you going is how much you are clearly pissing him off.  It’s hot.  Out of nowhere, the freckled sunshine sweetheart is just oozing confidence, standing square and pointing at you with a very stern expression.  And if you get a little hiccup in your blood, a little skip in your heartbeat, a little stampede southward that makes your pussy hum like the interested kitten it is, well.  That’s not your fault.  It’s his.  Asshole.

You flip him off.  He ignores you, shaking his head as he returns to his position.

“Sorry,” he says to the queue.  “Some people are so inconsiderate, aren’t they?”

Ugh. What a sexy bitch. 

You text to check in with the boys.  Minho made it inside, no surprise, but apparently Seungmin is also struggling for an in. 

what is with these security guards, Seungmin writes, are they military trained? fuck 

maybe you’re both just losing your touch, Minho replies.

never, you say.  we still have lots of time.  we'll get in there.  seungmin, meet me by the benches.  we need another plan.  

Usually, the best way to crash an event is with minimal attention and no theatrics.  It’s all about pretending you are exactly where you are supposed to be.  If you act like you belong, then you will.  

A spectacle is a desperate measure, but you are desperate people.  After a few hushed whispers on a bench, you and Seungmin spring into action. 

“Help!”  Seungmin shouts.  “My wife needs help!  Please!” 

“Your wife?” you whisper through gritted teeth, opening one eye to look at him.  You are currently laying on the pavement in a dramatic swoon, Seungmin hunched over you. 

“My companion of ambiguous relationship is hurt!” he says.  “Ouch,” he adds, because you swat his arm.

Fortunately, he does draw attention.  A few people run over, the beefy security guard one of them.  His nametag reads Changbin and he is in a black t-shirt at least two sizes too small.  You do not begrudge him this, as you would do the same if you had biceps like that.  

“What happened?” he asks, crouching down beside Seungmin. 

“My friend just passed out,” Seungmin says.  He hoists you into his arms as your tongue lolls out of your mouth.  “Is there somewhere inside I can take her to sit down?  I think all the chaos out here overstimulated her.” 

“One second,” Changbin says.  He pulls a walkie-talkie out of a holster.  It buzzes with static as he turns it on.  “Hey, we have a collapsed woman in front of Entry Door B.  Can I have back-up clear a path, and someone with First Aid training?”  The walkie-talkie buzzes again and Changbin puts it away.  He stands up, waving away the small crowd that has gathered.   “Yah, everyone back up!  This is an emergency!” 

“It’s really not,” Seungmin says.  He scoops you into a bridal hold then struggles to lift you off the ground. “I just need – whew – somewhere I can – agh – put her down.  I can just – AH! – carry her myself.”

Naturally, it is at that moment a familiar voice descends from above. 

A familiar, deep, Australian-accented voice.

“Move aside, please.”  

“Oh no,” you say, eyes closed.   You open them just in time for a glitter-faced, freckled, blue-haired pretty boy in a SECURITY windbreaker to cut through the crowd.   

Unfortunately, Felix is just as good looking at this angle.  He waves away the gathered onlookers as he approaches, but looks at Changbin first. 

“I have First Aid,” he says.  “What happened?”

“I just found her collapsed,” Changbin says.  “Her friend thinks it’s the crowd.  Should we bring her inside?” 

Felix looks at you.  The concerned furrow in his brow immediately gives way. 

You smile innocently. 

“No,” Felix says, frowning.  “We shouldn’t.” 

“Oh come on,” you say.  You smack the ground.  “I collapsed!  I need help!”

“No, you need a ticket,” Felix says.  He crosses his arms and stomps a foot.  “Seriously, what is wrong with you?  Some of us have a job to do, you know?”

“Naaaur ya need a ticket, mate,” you say in a mockingly deep chest voice. “Some of us have jobs ya knaaaaur!”

“Do you guys know each other?” Changbin asks, looking between you and Felix – who is growing increasingly red in the face and breathing much harder. 

“I have no idea who this guy is,” Seungmin says. 

“Ah!”  Felix yells, spinning to Changbin.  “She doesn’t have a ticket!  She’s just trying to sneak in!”

“She doesn’t have a ticket?”  Seungmin asks, gasping.  He drops you onto the concrete, ignoring your yelp of pain.   “But I thought she – she told me we – I – I –“

You watch in betrayed horror as Seungmin pretends to faint, flopping down beside you on the concrete.  You sit up, very tempted to slap him across the face but not wanting to give Felix more reasons to accost you. 

“Seungmin,” you say.  You grab him by the shirt and rattle him around like a ragdoll.  “Seungmin, you bastard, don’t even think about it!”

“You.”  Felix stomps up behind you.  “Get off the ground and come with me.” 

“No,” you say.  “I don’t want to and you can’t make me.” 

You shriek – again – when Felix grabs you under the arms and hoists you to your feet.  He manhandles you with only a modicum of effort, dragging you away from your stupid traitorous best friend. 

You step on Felix’s foot deliberately and he swears.  For such a pretty thing, he sure has a filthy mouth.  You grab a fistful of his hair and tug, to which he cusses up a storm and pries your hand off his head.   

You hear the distinct buzz of Changbin’s walkie-talkie.    

“We have a collapsed man in front of Entry Door B.  Can someone who isn’t going to start fighting the patrons come help me move him?”

“He’s faking it!” you cry in protest, watching Changbin scoop Seungmin off the ground. 

Changbin disregards your outburst.  Seungmin gives you a thumbs up behind his back.  Felix, of course, doesn’t see it because he’s too busy dragging you away.  You are left to sputter in bewildered protest at the injustice of it all. 

Felix marches you to the sidewalk, far away from the stadium queues.  You are both out of breath by the time you get there.  Even so, you attempt to manoeuvre under his arm to run away.   In a few quick moves, he knocks you onto your ass. 

 “Holy fuck!”  You are panting now.  A line of sweat dots your hairline.  You wipe at it and stare morosely at this stupidly competent minimum wage security guard.  “What are you, like some kind of karate master or something?”

“Taekwondo, actually,” he says, brushing off his jacket.  Then he tips his head and stares down at you.

You would be lying if you said the intensity of his stare didn’t have your heart racing for an entirely new reason.  Danger and desire have always danced a close dance for your tastes.  Felix is not helping matters, tucking back loose strands of vibrant hair as he looms over you, wetting his bottom lip and staring. 

You cross your arms and feign nonchalance, but you can’t look away from him.  When he crouches down slowly to meet you at eye level, everything below the belt goes pitter-patter. 

“No ticket,” Felix says slowly.  “No concert.  Do you understand me?” 

You stick out your tongue.

“Wow, mature,” he says.  His departing farewell is another snarky eyeroll.  He shakes his head as he stands, muttering to himself in obvious frustration. 

So much for not a mean bone in his body.  That bully is all business.   

So hot. 

You huff and puff for a bit.  Your phone is going berserk in your purse, probably the boys trying to reach you.  Eventually you succumb to the necessary confession of your twice thwarted efforts.  Minho teases that you are losing your touch for real.  It makes angry little fireworks pop out of your ears.  

Plenty of occasions you have assessed a situation and deemed it unreasonably complicated, but quitting while you’re ahead is not the same thing as admitting defeat.  You do not lose.  This isn’t even about the concert anymore.  Fuck Hwang Hyunjin, he was never worth the pain of a wax in the first place.  No.  This is about your pride.   This is about your dignity.  This is about your honour. 

You are getting into that concert, one way or another.   

First, you gather intel.  This comes in the form of snooping, running between queues to figure out the easiest mark.  You don’t judge the guards by their appearances this time, because apparently this security team has secret taekwondo masters hidden in their midst. 

You watch their every move, calculating and determining your odds therein.  Based on visual research and Minho’s confirmation, it seems your best bet is the smiling guard who let Minho through.  His nametag reads Jisung and he is a veritable flirt. 

Flash him your tits, Minho texts.

Uh, no, I’m not that desperate yet.       

Second, with your intel now acquired, you get into the dwindling line.  The sun is almost set and a breezy summer chill dances across your cheeks.  The concert will be starting soon.  You shuffle behind the other stragglers, adjusting your outfit.  The jean shorts hug your hips and flash a nice chunk of thigh, and your shirt is already low cut but you figure another tug won’t hurt.  You also pull your flannel down your arms to look as flirtatious as possible. 

Jisung is barely looking at the tickets as he scans them, chatting merrily to the guests as he lets them through.  You pull up a random ticket on your phone, something to hold out while you distract him. 

“Hi,” you say. 

His eyes flick down to your chest, then back up.  He smiles brightly.

“Hi!” he says.  “You look nice.  Excited for the concert?”

“Oh, absolutely,” you say.  “You have no idea how much I’ve been waiting for this.  It wasn’t easy to get in.”

“I know what you mean,” he says.  “Tickets are hard to come by, and so expensive!”

“Ugh, tell me about it,” you say, leaning in while he scans your phone.   This was a bad idea because he looks down at your chest again, just in time for his little device to flash red.

“Oh, oops!” he says.  He smiles at you as he shakes his device.  “Sorry!” he says.  “I think you showed me the wrong ticket.  Could you pull up the right one?”

“Ohhh!” you say, looking down at your phone with fake surprise.  Life is so unfair.  “I’m so sorry… Jisung.  Hehe, that’s such a nice name.”

“Haha, thanks,” Jisung says.  “My parents picked it, but, yeah, it’s cool.  Anyway.”  He wiggles his device.  “Ticket please!” 

You keep smiling and giggling, even as you turn around under the guise of searching through your phone.  You glare down at the stupid device, keeping your back to Jisung while you do so.  How the fuck are you getting out of this?  You flip through screenshots then open your text messenger.  Minho’s last words of wisdom blink up at you. 

Apparently, you are that desperate. 

With a sigh, you put your phone in your purse and zip it shut.  You shrug your shoulders and plaster that fake smile on your face again.  With a swift of flick of your thumbs, you lift your shirt and bra up over your tits and spin around to look at Jisung. 

“How’s this for a ticket—”

Jisung looks surprised and delighted.  Jisung, however, is standing a few feet back.  Probably because he was told to step back.  Probably by Felix who is standing in front of you with his arms crossed and an unimpressed look on his face.  

“Wow,” Felix says.  “Just committing crimes now, are we?”  

You shove your tits back into your bra indignity, not even embarrassed, just annoyed. 

“Tits aren’t a crime,” you say. 

“Public indecency is,” he replies.  

“You’re… publicly indecent…”  Not your best comeback.  You glare at him while fixing your shirt.  “There’s no way they pay you enough to be riding my ass this hard.” 

“They don’t,” Felix says, grabbing your arm.  “Believe me when I say riding your ass has been my pleasure.”

“Twisted fuck,” you reply. 

You wave at Jisung as Felix tugs you away.  He waves back but does nothing to rescue you, because all men are traitors. 

You groan loudly as Felix leads you away from the stadium yet again.  “Just let me innnnn,” you whine.  “Why do you hate meee.”

“I don’t even know you!” Felix says.  He deposits you on a bench and takes out his phone.

“What are you doing?” you ask, eying the device.

“What do you think I’m doing?” he asks.  “You tried to break into a ticketed event three times.  You faked an injury.  You flashed yourself in a public place—”

“I wouldn’t have done any of that if you just let me through in the first place!”

“You cannot be serious.”  Felix looks ready to rip his hair out.  “You don’t have a ticket!  Why would I let you in, why would I – AH!  Why am I arguing with you!  Be quiet, I’m phoning the police.”

“The po— the police?!  How dare you!” You try to stand but he pushes you onto the bench one-handed.  He holds you there, palm on your shoulder, still way stronger than someone this scrawny should be. 

“Fine!” you exclaim.  “Fine!  You win!  I’m sorry, Felix, I was wrong.  I was wrong and you were right.”

Felix pauses.  “Really,” he says, sounding unconvinced. 

“Yes!”  You look up at him with the saddest, most watery eyes you can muster.  “I just wanted to see the concert but it was stupid to think I could break in.” 

He turns off his screen.  Success.   You watch him slip his phone in his pocket. 

“It’s not about being smart or stupid,” he says, the ire gone from his voice.  It takes a lot of willpower not to bite his fingers when he pats your shoulder.  “It’s about the fact we can’t always get what we want,” he says kindly as he crouches in front of you.  His hand goes from your shoulder to your knee, still patting it in a friendly manner. 

You bite your tongue because you want to tell him you liked him better when he was being a mean bitch, but that would be counterproductive to your escape attempt. 

It turns out, you don’t need to say anything, because he decides to be a bitch again anyway.  Felix looks at you with a too-sweet smile and says, “It’s about time someone taught you that lesson.”

“Um, excuse me?” you say, aghast.  You clasp your hand over your heart.  “Just who do you think you are?  First of all, you taught me nothing, I’m still a horrible bitch and I lied when I said you were right.  Second, you absolutely can get everything you want, you just have to want it enough to get it.  But you wouldn’t know anything about that.  You know why, Felix?” 

He rolls his eyes and shakes his head like he expected this, which he probably did, but you’re too far gone to retreat. 

You reach out and cup his face in both hands, turning it to you.  Those sharp eyes are unflinching, even with your fingers on his face.  You try really hard not to gulp. 

“It’s because you are a good boy,” you say.  “You always do what you’re told.  You always follow the rules.  I bet everyone thinks you’re the nicest guy on the team, don’t they?  I bet they call you cute little nicknames and all the nice little girls think you’re a sweet, innocent baby.  And you are, aren’t you, Felix?  You’re just such a good, good boy.  But me?  I’m not good.  I’m not bad.  I just like to win.  When I want something, I get it, because I chase it, and I don’t stop until I get it.  Until it’s all mine.”  You lean in close.  “Get it?” 

His gaze darkens, brows pinching.  You take his fleeting moment of vulnerability to shove him onto his back.  He sprawls on the ground with a surprised yelp.  You sprint away at top speed and flip him off over your shoulder. 

It’s a haphazard ploy at best but you are fresh out of plans.  What you need is distance between you and Security Guard of the Year, a breather long enough to come up with a final plan.  Maybe you can physically break in somewhere: an office window, a janitorial stairwell, something.  

You keep an eye out for potential openings as you run. 

And run.

And run. 

Hmm.  You’ve been running a long time.   Even with the head-start, Felix should have caught you by now.  You doubt he would have truly given up.  Felix had a deranged look in his eye, similar to the one you get when someone is trying to beat you at your own game.  He doesn’t want you to win anymore than you want to lose.  You suspect it isn’t about the concert for him either; this is a personal battle. 

You come to a gradual stop, hands on your hips as you catch your breath.  It’s quiet on this side of the stadium as the queues were on the opposite end. 

Quiet, yes.  Too quiet.   

There’s a stairwell that leads to second level just above your head.  Felix is good.  You have to give credit where credit is due.  If you weren’t a scheming nightmare with a penchant for con-artistry, he probably would have caught you.  But without turning around, you know he booked it up the stairs and is two seconds from springing an attack. 

You take off running, just in time for him to thump into the grass beside you.  You laugh at his strangled cry of frustration as he scrambles to his feet. 

Around the next corner is the parking lot.  You stop a split second to look over your shoulder and see him hot on your heels.   He discarded his jacket and is in a loose sleeveless shirt, revealing he does have some light toning to his lean body.  But you don’t stop to measure how proportionate it is to his strength, because he is focussed on you like a laser. 

Then he smiles.  A slow, slinky smile like a cocky predator about to swipe at its prey.  That cat has claws, nasty ones, and you almost want to get tangled in them.  Almost.  You want to win even more.   

And he just set you up for success.  There’s a SECURITY jacket on the ground somewhere nearby.  That’s your ticket in.  You just have to lose Felix in the parking lot and loop back around to find where he tossed it. 

You spare no time setting that plan into action, giving Felix a smile of your own before you run.  He thunders after you.

The pair of you weave in and out of parked cars.  He disappears for a second behind a row of trucks.  You whip your head around to figure out where he went, only for him to summersault around the corner and cut you off.  You yell instinctively but narrowly dodge his reaching hand.   He curses, running after you with his arm outstretched.   You duck behind a trailer and lose him, scurrying between some SUVs.  You peek at him through the windows, watching him turn in a circle to find where you went.  Smiling to yourself, you quietly but quickly back away.  

You leave the lot and run back the way you first came.  You find Felix’s jacket draped on a random bush. 

Your heart is practically singing with adrenaline.  Victory is in sight.  You push yourself to run faster and reach out with both hands –

— only to find yourself rolling in the grass, Felix’s arms tight around your middle as he tackles you to the ground. 

You push and pull at each other, cursing and scrambling very ungracefully.  You get out of his arms but he climbs on top of you, then you knee him in the gut so he rolls over, but when you start crawling he grabs your ankles and drags you back. 

Ultimately, he Taekwondo Masters you onto your front, hands clasped behind your back.  You kick your feet and wail despondently into the grass as he kneels over you, breathing raggedly and swearing again. 

“You’re a monster!” you shout.  “You’re a tyrant and a bully and you have no right to – HEY!”

He handcuffs you.

“Ha.”  He leans in close, speaking right into your ear.  “I win.” 

“That’s not fair,” you say.  “You can’t just—ahh!”  You wail in petulance as he lifts you onto your feet.  His grip on your bicep is unyielding so you are forced to stomp alongside him as he escorts you…

…back to the sidewalk.

“You’re not busting me?” you ask in confusion.  You thought for sure he was going to drag you into some shady office and plop you in a chair until the police arrived.   He would probably be super boring and professional about it, staring at you with his dumb horny eyes but not doing anything about it.  Nothing sucks more than being all trussed up by a pretty boy with manners. 

“I just want you to go and never come back,” Felix says. 

“Fine.”  You turn around and hold your arms straight behind you.  “But I’m like a wolf, Felix.  I have your scent for life.”

“Yeah, sure,” he says.  “Not how wolves work by the way.  But fine.”

“Oh wow, sorry.  Didn’t realize you majored in Wolfology.  You got any other fun facts?”  

“You are so—”

You smirk at his grumbling.  You are just biding your time until he uncuffs one wrist, then you whip around faster than he can compute the action.  With one cuff still attached, you grab the second and clamp it down on his wrist.  He sputters in bewilderment, at which point you snatch the keys.

“What are you doing—”  He tries to grab them but your joined hands make the angle too awkward.  You spin around together in a few circles, bonk heads twice, until finally you reel back and chuck the keys as far into the distance as possible. 

He stands there, mouth agape.  You tap your foot impatiently. 

When he realizes what has happened – that you have handcuffed yourself to him and thrown away the keys – he looks at you with fiery eyes, fierce enough you stumble.  He yanks your joined hands, the chain ungiving.  You watch as he goes through several stages of grief in a matter of moments.  Then he closes his eyes and breathes in and out.    

“Why,” he says slowly, “did you just do that?” 

“I dunno, Felix,” you say.  You plop down on the ground and sit cross-legged.  It forces him to bend over, your cuffed wrist dragging him down.  “Guess we’ll have to go inside and get some back-up keys.  And when I’m in the stadium and you uncuff yourself from me, I promise not to run away.”   

“That’s your plan?” he snaps.  “That’s your plan?” 

“What, is there an echo out here?”

“That’s your plan?” he asks again, his deep voice pitching up an octave.  He crouches down and shoves his free hand into his hair, shaking his head.  “This can’t be happening,” Felix says, more out loud to himself than you.  “Why is this happening.  Oh my god.” 

You squeak when he tugs on the chain, yanking you close, nose to nose.

“What if I just called for back-up?” he asks. “Or skipped that and went right to the police?  How would you get out of that?”

“Wait,” you say.  “Why aren’t you doing that?” 

“Because.”

He leans back as far as he can, sitting on his heels.  You duck your head, trying to meet his eye to no avail.  He clenches his jaw.

“Felix,” you say.  “Why aren’t you just calling for back-up?”

“Because,” he says through gritted teeth.  “The handcuffs.  Are.  Not.  Regulation.” 

You look at each other.  There is a long moment of silence. 

Then, “What!”  You cackle with complete and utter abandon. 

A very unamused Felix glares at you while you throw your head back and laugh. 

“You?” you cry, poking your finger against his chest.  “You?  You?  You are just walking around with a pair of handcuffs that you aren’t supposed to have?  What the fuuuuuck—”  You think you might die laughing. 

“Jisung gave them to me before our shift!” he exclaims.  “It was a joke because— Never mind! I don’t have to explain myself to you!  Hello.  Hello.”  He grabs your chin with his free hand and turns your face roughly to his.   He jingles your joined hands.  “Not regulation,” he says.  “There are no other keys in this building.” 

Silence falls again. 

Then, “Oh.”  You stare at him.  “Shit.” 

A minute later, you and Felix are scuttling around trying to find the key.  You must have a very good arm because it landed near the stadium and disappeared in some bushes.   

You and Felix keep forgetting your wrists are connected, reaching in opposite directions only to snap back together.  You are certain you are going to end the night with a few bumps and bruises. 

The entire time you are searching for the key, Felix is grumbling irritably.  He tears his way through a bush, his deep voice pitching up with a miserable whine when he can’t find it. 

“This is so stupid,” he says.  He throws a stick at the wall.  “I am a good worker.  I never break the rules.  I am not getting in trouble for this. You did this.  You did this to me.” 

On he goes, grumble, grumble, grumble, bitch, bitch, bitch. 

“It’s not like the key disappeared,” you say, pushing some pebbles around.  “It has to be here somewhere.” 

It is starting to get dark, the sky a deep purple.  The stadium lights blare down on you.  Felix uses his phone flashlight to beam extra light at the ground.  The only time he stops grumbling is when the noise in the stadium changes, the concert clearly beginning.  He takes time out of his busy searching schedule to give you a mean smile. 

“When we find those keys,” you say, “I’m handcuffing you to that railing over there and leaving you to freeze to death in your stupid tank top.”

“It’s not a tank top,” he says.  “It’s a t-shirt.  I cut the sleeves off.  And when we find those keys, I’m handcuffing you to that railing over there and phoning the police.”

“Well then,” you say, “may the best key finder in a slutty tank top win.” 

“It’s not a tank top.”   

You continue to search.  It is utterly illogical that the keys would just vanish but the longer it takes, the more concerned you get.   It just doesn’t make sense!  Things don’t just disappear!  The keys landed somewhere over here, so they have to be…

You see it first.  You sit there in a stunned stupor.  You swat at Felix with your cuffed hand.

“What?” he says without looking at you.  You continue to slap him until he forces your hand down, tangling your fingers with his.  “What!” 

You point.  He crowds in behind you to look over your shoulder.  You feel him exhale. 

“Please don’t tell me…”   

You both lean to look down the sewer drain.  He flashes his phone light over it.  Something silver glints back in the darkness. 

“Fuck!” Felix says.  He doesn’t stop there.  What follows is a string of cusses so unbelievably foul and complex that you honestly believe it should quality him for Pulitzer in poetry.  When he has exhausted every expletive in several different languages, he plops down on his ass and stares up at the sky with mute despondency.   

“So what happens now?” you ask.  “Do we fuck?”

“What?”  He looks at you with utter bewilderment.  “What the fuck?  Why would you suggest that?  What would that solve?”

“Nothing,” you say.  “But it would kill the time and couldn’t make things worse.” 

“You are insane,” he says.  “I am handcuffed to an insane person.” 

“Hey, ‘mate’, you were the one with the non-regulation handcuffs in the first place.  I could solve this problem real quick by phoning the authorities myself and saying some crazy guy put me in cuffs.” 

“I dare you,” he says.  “Try.”

“No,” you say.  And not just because you have a record with the police and they would never take your side.  But Felix doesn’t need to know that.  Well, you suspect Felix is smart enough to guess it, but he doesn’t need the confirmation.  “I’d rather make you suffer,” you say instead.  You sit back in an insouciant slouch like the whole circumstance is beneath your attention.  “Figure it out, pretty boy.” 

“Well,” he says, “apparently if you break your wrists then you can force them through the cuffs.”

“Ew!” You push him in the middle of his chest.  He doesn’t fall, but he does glare at you.  “We’re not doing that!  What a stupid plan!  You’ve been guzzling the hair dye fumes, buddy.  Think of a plan that doesn’t involve injury, thank you.” 

“I didn’t want to do this,” Felix says with another put-upon sigh, “but fine.  I have another pair at home so the keys—”

“Wait,” you interrupt.  “I thought someone gave you the cuffs today?  Why do you have another key at home?”

“I have another pair,” he repeats, “of the same handcuffs.”

“You—”

“Already own a pair, yes, move on.”  He aggressively pushes hair out of his eyes.  “He clearly bought it from the same place so my key should work for this one too.”

“So despite your uppity school boy routine, you do own non-regulation handcuffs and not just as a joke.  Wow, Felix.”  You giggle helplessly.  “Be careful or I might start to like you.” 

He is glaring at you, no surprise, but the tips of his ears blush pink. 

“Let’s just go,” Felix says.  “The sooner I get you off, the sooner I can forget about your existence.”

“You can get me off as fast or slow as you like—ahh!” 

Once more, the secret superman is manhandling you onto your feet.  Without pausing for breath, he turns and marches away.  You are forced to stumble behind his swift strides, your hands swinging close enough that your fingertips brush every so often.   

“How do I know you’re not gonna murder me?” you ask.

“You don’t,” he replies.

“How do you know I’m not gonna murder you?” 

“I don’t.”  He sounds more annoyed than afraid.  “But it sounds better than being cuffed to you forever.  I’ll take my chances.  Come on.” 

“Not like I have a choice,” you grumble. 

He comes to an abrupt halt and you crash into him with a sharp exhale.  He grabs your hand and tugs you close. You blink at him with surprise while he tips his head in that studious way.

“You’re right,” he says. “You don’t.  In fact, it’s almost nice, you forced to finally do what I’m asking.  If you’re not careful, it might even make me like you.” 

It is so cold and sarcastic. 

It gets you so hot. 

Seriously, what is with your stupid brain?  How does it cross the wires of fear and desire like that?  Felix is speaking at you with that deep, dark, nasty voice of his and your heart should be skipping beats in concern, not because you think he’s sexy when he’s being a bitch.  

You hide it from him well enough, glaring at him like he glared at you.  He just snorts and shakes his head. 

“What?” you ask. 

“Interesting,” he replies.  “Very interesting.”   

“What?”

“Nothing.”  He smiles politely, for a moment looking like the unassuming pretty boy you thought he was.  He bats his long eyelashes at you, smiles a coy smile, and squeezes your hand.   “Come on,” he says.  “We tried this your way and it got us in trouble.  Time to be a good girl and do it my way.  No, stop, don’t say anything.  Be quiet.  Just walk.  Let’s go.” 

You stumble when he tugs you after him.  Your mouth is hanging open yet again.   

You are proud to say that in your many years of bad girl shenanigans, you have never truly met your match.  You’ve played pretend a few times, let a couple losers think they won, if only because you liked the game of it.  But no one has ever really taken control.  No one has ever really beat you.  No one has ever come close. 

No one.  Until today. 

You glare at the back of Felix’s head, brain stampeding as fast as your heart.   Because finally, you’ve found him, your perfect match.  Lashed to you through the metal manifestation of fate’s red string. 

You didn’t know what game you were playing before, but now you do.

And you’re going to win.  

[shhhsecretsideblog]

For the birth denial asks, what about going to a play or performance and you're in labor the whole time, but you're sucking it up because it's your partners birthday and they really wanted to see it, but your water breaks/ you feel the urge to push just after the last intermission ends

Anon!!!! You beautiful person! This is my fav thing ever and I swear I’ve submitted this exact request to other birth fic writers on here before I started doing my own. So so happy to have gotten this ask. Thank you!!!!

Theatre Birth

We had booked the tickets a year ago; it was a limited run at our local theatre, guest starring our favourite actress, and it just happened to coincide with your birthday. We simply had to get tickets to see this play. So I offered to buy the tickets and we could make a celebratory night of it.

But then I got pregnant.

We completely forgot about the show with all the excitement of the pregnancy, until about two weeks beforehand when we received the tickets in the post. It was awfully close to my due date. You offered to cancel the tickets, or see if we could resell them, but we were both still desperately excited to see this limited performance while we could. I assured you I still wanted to go, it was your birthday treat and we would be fine. First babies are never early.

I didn’t tell you about the braxton hicks contractions that plagued me the day before, or the fact I’d lost my mucus plug that morning. You were too excited; it was your birthday, you had a baby on the way and you would be seeing your favourite actress that evening. I couldn’t spoil your joy, especially not for false and practice labour pains. I just had to ride them out and let you enjoy your day. I’d tell you tomorrow.

I’d managed to hide the grimaces of pain throughout the day, but when we got to the theatre the cramps were coming at such regular intervals I was forced to consider this might actually be the real thing. But we were here now and labour took hours before there would be any need to go to the hospital, so I didn’t say anything. You pulled my arm eagerly through the theatre, excitement sparkling in your eyes for this evening’s performance. Holding my heavy bump, I plastered on my best smile and waddled behind you to find the row with our seats.

The old theatre seats were upholstered in a rough red velvet that itched the backs on my legs and the size of the seats were not designed with pregnant people in mind. Needless to say I was far from comfortable. You flicked through the programme and opened your box of sweets, in a world of your own as we waited for the show to start. I shifted in my seat and rubbed the ache in my lower belly, my bump spread over the tops of my legs because the seat was too narrow to allow it to fully sit between my thighs as it usually did. Another contraction struck and I hissed through my teeth but at the same time the music started abruptly so my flinch was left unnoticed.

I’d thought seeing the play would be a great distraction from the aches and twinges, but as the waves of pain crashed with more and more intensity I couldn’t pay attention to what was happening on stage. The seat was agonisingly uncomfortable, I was sweating in my outfit, and I was regretting all my choices that had led me here. After a long hour and a half Act One eventually finished. You helped me up out of the low chair so I could make a quick dash to the toilet, with the baby so big and so active I was surprised I’d lasted the duration of the first act.

There was a long line for ladies, standard in the small theatre, but as I felt the telltale cramping of the next contraction I pulled the pregnancy card and skipped ahead of the queue. I just felt so full; my belly was tight, the baby was low, and there was so much pressure. I panted silently through the contraction as I sat on the toilet and just as it was coming to an end I felt something give and a splash echoed from the porcelain.

Oh my god, that was my waters… I thought to myself.

I sat there, a little in shock, breathing slowly to calm myself. It's okay. I’ll just clean myself up, head back to our seats to tell you, and then we could make a quick and subtle exit before the play resumed. By the time I had exited the bathroom and awkwardly shuffled along the row to get back to our seats the lights in the theatre were already starting to dim - the next Act was beginning. You offered a hand to help me get back into the chair and I don’t know why but I took it and sat back down on the itchy seat. The music started before I could tell you my waters had just broken, with everyone around us back in their assigned seats all sitting in the dark and facing the bright lights of the stage. Now completely stuck in the middle of a row I couldn’t bring myself to tell you - we couldn’t get leave now, it would mean asking about 15 people to move in order to allow my heavy and labouring body to exit the row and attracting all manner of unwanted attention. Rubbing my contracting belly, I took a deep breath. I just had to get through act two and then you and I could head straight for the hospital after the play. Everything would be fine.

~•~

It was not fine.

Without the cushioning of my waters the baby’s head was rammed against my dilating cervix. The contractions were hitting me every few minutes and I was surprised I hadn’t yet cried out from the pain. I tried to do little things to ease the pain, shifting in my seat or rubbing my belly, but the movement seemed to attract the annoyed glances from people around us. If I just stayed still and breathed through the pain, I was sure I could make it through. Occasionally you’d glance at me, checking I was enjoying the show, and I tried my best to smile through my gritted teeth.

But everything changed when the need to push presented itself. I pulled a sudden sharp gasp and my eyes widened with panic. You softly turned to look at me and your face fell at seeing the pained and panicked expression on mine.

“Are you okay? What’s wrong?” You whispered in my ear.

“Hooo- nothing…” I breathed quietly, ignoring all my body’s cues that I might need to start pushing.

You placed a hand on my bump and felt the solid and tense surface beneath your fingers. “Are you having contractions?”

“I’m fine… hoooo… just- hold my hand.” I said, determined not to make a scene or attract attention.

Grabbing your hand I turned back to the stage, signalling you to do the same. I could do this, it wouldn’t be much longer and then we can leave quietly. Just breathe and don’t push, I told myself.

I managed to make it through half a dozen more contractions, breathing steadily and squeezing your hand whenever they hit. I could see in my peripheral vision your head turning anxiously towards me whenever I gripped your hand tight. The play felt like it was dragging on and on and on. Surely it had to end soon. The next contraction began to seize, I took a deep breath and released it slowly through the pain but the pressure was quickly building to astronomical heights. I was biting my lips to stop myself making any noise but the occasional whimper slipped through. Without control or permission I felt my body suddenly push. My fingers curled around your hand, my nails digging deep into your skin as I beared down.

Your head snapped towards me and saw my face scrunched and my chin on my chest.

“Oh my god are you pushing?!?!” You stuttered.

I could only gulp a breath as my body pushed again. The baby was right there and I couldn’t hold it in any longer. My legs parted instinctively as I slumped in the chair and lifted my knees. I could feel my lips start to open, forced apart as the head pushed its way out. And yet I remained silent, with only the occasional muted grunt sounding from my throat from a baby that was desperate to be born.

“Stop… y-you can’t be pushing. You’re not in labour… are you?” You were frazzled, unsure what to do. The performers were still on stage, the show continuing, unaware of the new life that was soon to enter the world.

I let go of your hand and scrambled to pull the fabric of my dress up. Diving beneath the clothing I put a hand between my thighs and I felt through my underwear the large round shape of the baby’s head poking out. “Fuck….” I gritted under my breath.

Unable to fully speak or explain, I just grabbed your hand and placed it on the partially crowned head. “Baby’s-coming…mnghhhhhh….” I grunted and succumbed to another push, bearing down uncontrollably with a primal need to birth right here right now.

People around us were starting to notice, but I could pay them no mind. The baby slipped further and further out with every push, filling your hand that had remained between my legs. The full crown was reached in a matter of agonising seconds and then with a sudden loud grunt the head popped out.

It was only then I became aware of the silence and the fact the people on stage had halted their performance and were staring.

[idyllic-ghost]

Title: Vanilla Perfume Pairing: Sunwoo x gn!reader Genre: fluff, suggestive, established relationship, Wordcount: 3.7k Rating: 18+ for suggestive content

Synopsis: You know that Sunwoo loves your perfume, that's partially why you wear it all the time. He just gets more obvious with his obsession when he's drunk.

Warnings: mentioned alcohol consumption, alluding to nsfw activities, food mention

Disclaimer: The scenarios and depictions in my works are fictional and do not represent real-life situations. They do not aim to reflect the complexities of any culture, city, or individual. All characters are entirely fictional, regardless of names or descriptions.

MDNI: Adults only. Minors are not allowed. Any minors found will be blocked.

A/N: this fic was created before i decided to leave this blog permanently, and put on queue to be posted now. this blog is still not active. read here to find out why

Masterlists

Amid the chatter that spills out from the dimly lit bar, Sunwoo’s senses are overwhelmed—laughter and conversations meld into a single, indistinguishable hum, like a chaotic symphony playing in the background. People mill about on the sidewalk, their bodies forming clusters that obscure his view, a moving wall of shapes and shadows under the flickering neon lights. The only things he can register are the faint, lingering taste of beer on his tongue and the rough texture of his jeans beneath his fingertips. Yet, even in the midst of this bustling scene, there’s a part of him that remains attuned to just one thing—waiting for you.

Then, it happens. The delicate scent of vanilla threads through the cool night air, a subtle whisper slicing through the cacophony, wrapping around him like a silk ribbon. It carries the unmistakable promise of your presence, a scent as familiar as it is intoxicating, drawing him in with the soft persistence of a lullaby. It’s subtle, almost elusive, but to Sunwoo, it’s as familiar as his own heartbeat.

His heart skips a beat, a familiar thrill coursing through him as he instinctively knows it’s your perfume. The rest of the world fades away; the many voices become a distant murmur, and the crowd around him blurs into the background. His pulse quickens, anticipation buzzing in his veins as he turns, searching the street with a singular focus.

And then he sees you. You’re standing just outside the his groups of friends, illuminated by the soft glow of the streetlights, waving at him with that radiant smile that never fails to make his heart flutter. You’re only wearing jeans and a light sweater, shivering slightly in the chilly evening air. Your eyes, warm and sparkling, meet his, and in that instant, everything else melts away.

The world around you both seems to pause, leaving only the two of you in this perfect, fleeting moment. Sunwoo’s breath catches in his throat, his expression softening as a sense of calm washes over him. There’s an undeniable pull, a magnetic force that draws him to you, and without a second thought, he starts weaving his way through the small crowd, eager to close the distance between you.

“Baby!” he exclaims, his voice rising above the din, louder than intended thanks to the buzz of alcohol still coursing through his system. His joy and excitement burst forth in a way that’s impossible to contain, and the group of people nearby turns to look, their conversations momentarily halted.

Embarrassed by the sudden attention, you mumble apologies to those around, your cheeks warming under the curious gazes. Sunwoo had called you half an hour ago, his voice slurred but sweet, asking you to come pick him up after a night out with his friends. It hadn’t taken much to convince you—just a few soft words about how much he missed you, and you were already slipping on your shoes and grabbing your keys.

“They’re taking me home to their place!” Sunwoo explains to his friends, his words tumbling out with childlike excitement, as if he hadn’t already told them his plans a dozen times.

After a round of goodbyes that seem to drag on forever, Sunwoo finally reaches your side again. The chill in the air nips at your skin, and without a word, he shrugs off his jacket and drapes it over your shoulders, his touch lingering for just a moment longer. The warmth of his jacket, combined with the gesture, sends a flush of warmth through you.

“There,” he murmurs, his voice soft and tender as he adjusts the collar around your neck. “Can’t have you freezing out here.”

You smile up at him. "I thought I was supposed to take care of you."

"You'll get your chance." He wears a cheeky smile, and pulls you in a little closer for a short kiss. He tastes of beer, but you don't mind as you feel him smile against your lips.

Sunwoo, still a little unsteady, takes your hand, his fingers intertwining with yours as if it’s the most natural thing in the world. He’s eager, almost too eager, as he pulls you along, but his steps are aimless, zigzagging as he struggles to maintain a straight path. You chuckle softly, gently steering him toward your car, guiding him with a patient hand as you navigate through the chilly night together.

He stumbles slightly as he reaches for the passenger door, a lopsided grin on his face as he leans against the car for balance. “Got it, got it,” he mumbles, fumbling with the handle before you gently push his hand aside to open the door for him.

“Thanks, baby,” he says, his voice soft and affectionate as he climbs into the seat. He’s all smiles as he settles in, his head resting back against the seat, eyes half-closed as he breathes out a contented sigh. You close the door behind him and circle around to the driver’s side, the brisk air urging you to hurry.

Once inside, the warmth of the car’s interior wraps around you both, a welcome contrast to the crispness of the night. You glance over at Sunwoo as you start the engine, your gaze lingering on his relaxed expression. His eyes are closed now, his breathing steady, but there’s still a small, happy smile playing on his lips.

As you pull away from the curb, the quiet hum of the engine and the gentle vibration of the road create a soothing rhythm. The city lights flash by in a blur of neon and headlights, but the world inside the car feels peaceful, almost serene. Every so often, Sunwoo shifts slightly in his seat, murmuring something incoherent under his breath, his hand reaching out as if searching for you.

Without taking your eyes off the road, you reach over and take his hand, your fingers entwining with his. He squeezes your hand gently, the warmth of his touch spreading through you like a soft glow. His thumb brushes against your skin in a slow, lazy motion.

“Thanks for coming to get me,” he mumbles after a while, his voice drowsy. “You’re the best.”

“Of course,” you reply, glancing over at him with a smile. “I’ll always come for you, Sunwoo.”

He opens his eyes just enough to look at you, his gaze filled with a tender warmth that makes your heart skip a beat. “I know,” he whispers, his voice barely audible. “That’s why I love you.”

As you drive, the comforting scent of vanilla lingers in the air, and Sunwoo inhales deeply, the familiarity of your perfume grounding him even as his head swims from the night’s drinks. He closes his eyes again, a soft smile playing on his lips as he leans toward you, savoring the scent that reminds him of you. It’s sweet, warm, and comforting—a fragrance that feels like home to him.

When you finally pull up in front of your apartment building, you gently release his hand and turn off the engine. For a moment, you just sit there, taking in the peaceful quiet of the night, the soft rise and fall of Sunwoo’s breathing beside you. You lean over to gently nudge him awake.

“Sunwoo, we’re here,” you whisper, your voice soft as you brush a stray lock of hair from his forehead.

He blinks his eyes open. “Your place?” he asks, his voice thick with drowsiness, but there’s a hint of excitement in his tone.

“Yeah,” you reply, smiling as you unbuckle your seatbelt. “It was your idea, remember?”

He smiles, his gaze softening as he takes in your words. “Right... I like that idea,” he murmurs, still slightly drowsy, but there’s a warmth in his eyes that tells you he’s happy to be with you.

The moment you step out of the car, the brisk night air bites at your skin, a sharp contrast to the warmth you’ve just left behind. But before the chill can settle, Sunwoo’s arm is around your shoulders, drawing you into the shelter of his body. His touch is reassuring, a silent promise of protection as you navigate the dimly lit pathway to your apartment, each step resonating with the quiet intimacy you share. His steps are more stable now, but he leans on you slightly, as if reluctant to let go of the warmth and closeness you share.

The scent of vanilla clings to you, stronger now as he’s close to you, and he nuzzles his face into the crook of your neck as you wait for the elevator. “You smell so good,” he murmurs, his voice muffled against your skin. "You always do."

You laugh softly, feeling a warmth spread through you at his words. “I’m glad you like it,” you reply, pressing the button for your floor.

When you finally reach your apartment, Sunwoo is almost half-asleep again, his head nodding slightly with each step. But as soon as you unlock the door and step inside, he perks up, the familiar warmth and comfort of your home welcoming you both. The soft glow of the lamps casts a cozy light over the living room, and the subtle scent of vanilla lingers in the air, mingling with the comforting aroma of your space. Sunwoo sighs in relief, kicking off his shoes with a bit more effort than usual as you close the door behind you.

He stumbles slightly, trying to push his shoes together with his foot, his brow furrowed in concentration. It’s endearing, watching him focus so intently on such a small task, but after a moment, you can’t help but smile as you squat down to help.

"Do you want something to eat, or do you just want to go to bed?" you ask, setting his shoes neatly to the side.

Sunwoo pauses, swaying slightly as he thinks it over. "Do you have ramyun?" he mutters, his voice thick with sleepiness, but there’s a hopeful glint in his eyes.

You smile softly, charmed by his request. "I can make you some," you reply, standing back up. "Why don’t you go wash up in the meantime? Does that sound nice?"

When you meet his gaze, you’re greeted by Sunwoo’s lovesick grin, his eyes crinkling at the corners as he looks at you like you’re the best thing that’s ever happened to him. “Very nice,” he agrees.

You stifle a laugh, gently nudging him toward the bathroom. “Then go. I have some spare clothes you left here last time—they’re in the usual spot.”

Sunwoo mumbles something under his breath, something about how well you take care of him, as he stumbles off toward your bedroom. You watch him for a moment, a fond smile tugging at your lips, before turning your attention to the kitchen.

The apartment is quiet except for the faint sound of water running as Sunwoo washes up. You move around the kitchen with practiced ease, pulling out a pot and filling it with water, your thoughts drifting as you prepare the ramyun. The stove clicks on, a small flame flickering to life beneath the pot, and you find yourself smiling at the simple, familiar routine of it all.

As the water begins to boil, you reach for the packet of noodles, tearing it open with a soft crinkle. The rich scent of the seasoning fills the air as you pour it into the bubbling water, stirring it gently. Steam rises in delicate tendrils, curling around your face and carrying with it the savory aroma of the meal you’re preparing.

The soft padding of footsteps behind you catches your attention, and before you can turn around, you feel Sunwoo’s presence close behind. His freshly washed scent, the smell of your body wash that he definitely borrowed, wraps around you like a comforting embrace. His arms slide around your waist, and he presses his chin against the your shoulder, sighing contentedly.

“That looks delicious,” he murmurs, his voice a low rumble against your back.

You smile, your hands still stirring the pot as you lean back into his warmth. “It’ll be ready soon,” you reply softly.

For a few moments, you both stand there in the kitchen, the only sounds the gentle bubbling of the ramyun and the quiet hum of the apartment around you. It’s a peaceful kind of silence, filled with the unspoken understanding that this, right here, is where you both belong.

Sunwoo nuzzles into the curve of your neck, his breath a warm whisper against your skin as he inhales deeply, savoring the familiar blend of your perfume and the lingering traces of the night air. His hands tighten on your waist, their warmth seeping through your clothes, grounding you in the moment. The intimate pressure of his body against yours sends a ripple down your spine, like the first touch of sunlight after a cold dawn.

"You smell nice," he hums, his voice low, edged with a hint of something more.

"You said that," you reply with a soft chuckle, your tone playful, but there’s no denying the way his words affect you.

"Mm, and I mean it..." His voice trails off as he presses a kiss to the curve of your neck, slow and deliberate, his lips lingering just long enough to leave a tingling sensation. His hold on you tightens as if to anchor himself in this moment, savoring the blend of your scent and the feel of you against him.

He trails another kiss along your neck, his lips barely brushing your skin as his breath fans out in a warm exhale. "You’re making it really hard to focus on anything else right now," he murmurs, his voice husky with unspoken desire.

"Is that so?" you whisper back, your own voice laced with a teasing challenge, though the quickening of your pulse betrays your growing anticipation.

Instead of replying, Sunwoo’s hands slide from your waist to your hips, pulling you closer as he nuzzles into the crook of your neck, his lips grazing your earlobe. “You’re impossible to resist when you smell this good,” he murmurs, his voice a low, intimate whisper that sends a thrill through you.

The atmosphere in the kitchen shifts, the air between you charged with a tension that’s as intoxicating as the scent of your perfume. His kisses become a little more insistent, each one sending a wave of warmth through you that stirs something deeper. The soft, rhythmic bubbling of the ramyun on the stove is the only reminder of where you are, but even that feels secondary to the heat building between you.

You can’t help but smile, tilting your head slightly to give him better access, feeling the steady rise and fall of his chest against your back. “Maybe we should take this to the table,” you suggest, your voice soft, though it’s clear that the idea of moving doesn’t hold much appeal.

“Or,” he counters, his tone rich with suggestion as he nips gently at your ear, “we could just stay right here...”

The suggestion hangs in the air, tempting and full of promise, but the bubbling ramyun eventually pulls you back to the moment. You feel a pang of playful regret as you gently pull away from his embrace, turning your attention back to the stove. “Hold that thought,” you say with a soft laugh, your heart still fluttering from his touch.

When the noodles are finally cooked, you turn off the stove and reach for a pair of bowls, but Sunwoo doesn’t let go entirely. Instead, he shifts his hold slightly, his arms still wrapped around you as he leans his chin on your shoulder, watching you with a sleepy smile. His presence is a comforting weight against you, a silent assurance that the closeness you share isn’t going anywhere.

You serve the ramyun, pouring a little extra into his bowl, the difference almost imperceptible but meaningful all the same. “Here you go,” you murmur, holding out his bowl to him as he finally lets go to take it from your hands.

“You’re spoiling me,” he teases, his voice soft and full of affection.

“Maybe,” you reply with a playful smile, handing him a steaming bowl. “But you deserve it.”

He takes the bowl from you, his fingers brushing against yours and, for a moment, he just looks at you. “Thank you,” he says quietly, his voice sincere.

You smile back at him, feeling a deep sense of contentment as you both make your way to the small dining table. The two of you sit down, the warmth of the meal and the comfort of each other’s presence making the night feel just right.

As you eat together in the soft glow of the kitchen lights, Sunwoo keeps stealing glances at you, his expression one of pure happiness. And when he finally finishes his meal, he leans back in his chair, sighing with satisfaction.

“Best ramyun I’ve ever had,” he declares, a playful twinkle in his eye.

You laugh softly, shaking your head. “You always say that.”

“Because it’s always true,” he replies, his smile widening. “Especially when you make it.”

The two of you linger at the table for a while longer, the conversation light and easy, filled with quiet laughter and the kind of comfortable silences that come with knowing each other so well.

After a while, with the meal finished and your conversation winding down, you begin to gather the empty bowls and utensils. Sunwoo starts to stand, clearly intending to help, but you gently nudge him back into his chair with a soft smile. “I’ve got this,” you insist, stacking the bowls in your hands. “You just relax.”

He opens his mouth to protest, but the contentment in your eyes stops him. Instead, he leans back, a fond smile playing on his lips as he watches you move around the kitchen. There’s a warmth in the way he looks at you, a mixture of admiration and affection that makes your heart flutter.

As you turn on the faucet and start rinsing the dishes, you hear the soft creak of the chair as Sunwoo finally rises from his seat. You’re about to remind him that you have everything under control when you feel his arms slide around your waist, pulling you gently back against him. His presence is a comforting weight, his body warm against yours as he rests his chin on your shoulder yet again.

“Couldn’t just sit and watch you work,” he murmurs, his voice a low hum against your ear. “Not when I could be close to you instead.”

A smile tugs at your lips as you continue washing the dishes, his touch grounding you in the moment. “You always have to be close, don’t you?” you tease, your voice light as you scrub the remnants of ramyun from the bowls.

“Can you blame me?” he replies, his breath warm against your neck as he nuzzles into your hair.

His hands slide up your sides, settling just under your ribs as he pulls you even closer, his fingers splaying out as if to keep you there. There’s a quiet intensity in the way he holds you, his touch lingering and affectionate, making even this simple task feel like something more.

You tilt your head slightly, glancing at him from the corner of your eye. “You know, this isn’t exactly helping me finish the dishes,” you point out with a playful grin, though there’s no real protest in your tone.

“Maybe not,” Sunwoo concedes, his lips brushing against the curve of your neck as he speaks. “But it’s making me feel better.”

You laugh softly, the sound mingling with the quiet clink of dishes being washed. “I guess that’s worth something.”

The two of you stay like that for a while, the rhythm of washing dishes punctuated by the steady rise and fall of his breath against your back. It’s a different kind of intimacy, one that feels just as meaningful as any grand gesture—a shared moment of domesticity.

As you place the last dish in the drying rack, you turn in his arms, facing him with a smile. “All done,” you announce, wiping your hands on a nearby towel.

Sunwoo doesn’t move away, his hands still resting lightly on your hips as he gazes down at you with a contented smile. “Thank you,” he says softly, his voice filled with warmth.

“For what?” you ask, tilting your head slightly in curiosity.

“For everything,” he replies, his eyes searching yours as if trying to convey just how much he means it. “For the food, for letting me stay over... and for just being you.”

You reach up, cupping his face in your hands as you lean in to press a gentle kiss to his lips. It’s soft, unhurried.

When you pull back, Sunwoo’s smile has grown lazy and his eyes half-lidded. “What do you say we head to bed?” he suggests, his voice still soft but laced with a hint of playfulness.

"I hope you're only planning on sleeping. You're still not sober, you know?" you remind him.

"You sober me up," he argues while wrapping his arms around you and nuzzling his face in your neck again.

"Mhm, sure, babe." You pat his head and move him to the side to get him a glass of water. "I'm putting a glass of water by your side of the bed in case you wake up in the middle of the night, okay?"

Sunwoo hums in response. He seems to have already forgotten his earlier mission, and is lazily making his way to your bedroom. You watch his slumped figure wobble to the door and open it. He looks back at you expectantly, and you immediately follow after him.

While you change into your pajamas, Sunwoo rips off his clothes until he's only in his underwear—even when it's cold outside, he prefers to sleep this way. He gets into bed, and you get in shortly after him. His arms wrap around you slowly, feeling your skin under his palms as he drags his hands around your body. Your head naturally falls into the crook of his neck, and you finally smell it. It's faint, like he had tried to wash it away, but it was still there.

"Babe," you whisper.

"Yeah?"

"Did you put on my perfume?"

feedback is always welcomed!

[cryptidvoidwritings]

source

[dilemmaontwolegs]

Privacy || PG10

Pairing: Pierre Gasly x fem!reader, Kika x fem!reader Warnings: angst, cheating, wlw WC: ~700 F1 Masterlist

You were his. He had promised it over and over, time and time again. You were only his. He didn’t want to share you, not with anyone. Privacy - that was the foundation of your relationship. Everything was kept private, so he could keep you safe.

Or so he said...

You could still see the notification when you closed your eyes. The WhatsApp message that mysteriously disappeared before you could read it, just like all the rest. You could feel the ice spreading down your spine at the lie.

It was just a group message, just one of the guys on the grid. He said it as if you didn’t know the name of every driver.

“I’ll be back before you wake, you won’t even notice I’m gone,” he promised as he stepped out of the bedroom in a white linen shirt, the sleeves rolled up to his elbows. You had taken time off work to spend the summer break with him but he couldn’t seem to go one night without attending a party at some club you couldn’t even pronounce.

You placed your phone on the coffee table and nodded your head like a good girlfriend should, just as he expected. “Be safe. Have fun.”

“Yeah, course.” He could barely hide his smile as he replied to a message on his phone, completely distracted as you did the same. “Love you.”

“You too.”

The club was full by the time you made it inside, unable to skip the long queue because you were just another pretty face, not one of the influencers or sports stars that frequented the place. There were hundreds of people but it was impossible to miss Mr Personality in the crowd, his smile wide as his arm curled around the model’s narrow waist.

The anonymity that came with the ‘private’ relationship worked in your favour as you made your way through the people. A few men took notice of your hips swaying with each step, but that was nothing new. Pierre had called you his ‘petal’, beautiful and in need of protecting.

“Hi,” you greeted your boyfriend when you reached the ring of strangers surrounding him. He dropped his arm from the model’s body and tore his lips away from her neck with wide-eyes. “Oh, don’t stop on my account, Kika is very beautiful.”

“It’s not what it looks like-”

“Of course not, it was totally innocent,” you interrupted, voice dripping with sarcasm.

“No need to be a bitch.” You could smell the alcohol on his breath and see his eyes dilated with the thoughts he had of finishing what he started with the younger woman. He had been talking to her for weeks, waiting for their trip to align so he could do more than just slide into her DMs.

You watched his hand disappear behind her back and she bit her lip as he palmed her ass. “It’s time to make a decision,” you said as you crossed your arms. “Are you going to come home with me?”

Pierre looked between you and Kika, his eyes dropped from her face to her tits before flicking back to you. “I’m good here.”

“Let’s go, love,” you said as you held your hand out, making Pierre laugh.

His laughter died when Kika stepped away from him, taking your hand and curling her body into your side. The devilish look in her siren eyes had you combing your fingers into her dark hair as she gripped the tight dress you wore and pulled you closer. Her lips tasted of strawberry from her daiquiri and the essence of the rum was stronger on her tongue when she deepened the kiss.

“What the fuck?” Pierre growled as he pulled you apart to see her lipstick smeared on your smirking lips.

“You’re not the only one in my DMs,” Kika teased as cleaned her lipstick from your face with a promising look. “Isn’t that right, my petal?”

“Petal?” His face was falling with each passing second, devastation at his actions being realised the longer he looked at you. He knew he was losing you. “Baby, wait, we can talk about this.”

“You made your bed, Pierre,” you said as you shook your head and curled your arm around Kika like he had earlier. “Now sleep alone in it.”

[peoplewatchingsf]

You’re mine.

Warnings: 18+, smut, degrading language, choking, jealous Sam ‼️

The lights dim, and the buzz of the crowd grows louder. I can feel the excitement vibrating through the floor, and my heart skips a beat as the stage lights flicker, signaling that it’s almost time. The air backstage is thick with anticipation, the sound of roadies running around, adjusting cables, making last-minute checks. But I’m not focused on any of that right now. I’m focused on Sam.

It had been hard adjusting to life on the road with him, confined often to the tour bus with the rest of the band. Most nights he’d come back to the bus too tired to even think about giving me affection, it was bound to take its toll. Well, until today. I longed for Sam, watching him on stage knowing he’s mine made me so proud.

I’d decided to stand in the crowd today, ignoring Sam’s protests that it ‘isn’t safe for a pretty lass like you out there’, I was determined if not anything. So I made my way out there, right in the middle towards the front, so Sam would be able to see me perfectly.

The band came out, the crowd erupted into cheers. I’d positioned myself nicely with a group of lads probably a similar age to myself. We’d begun chatting, making small talk whilst waiting for Sam to come on.

“I’m Alex, by the way.” The tall brunette exclaimed to me.

“Nice to meet you, I’m YN” I smiled back politely.

The boys offered to help me out if the crowd gets too wild. I’d failed to mention the fact that Sam and his security had full eyes on me anyway.

Around half way through the gig, the beginning chords to ‘Spice’ rung out. That was it, the crowd went mental. I’ll admit I was having fun in the crowd, supporting my rockstar boyfriend and letting my hair down. I saw Sam glancing at me every so often, clearly keeping an eye.

When the crowd erupted into chaos at ‘Howden Aldi Death Queue’, I accepted Alex’s’ offer in getting me on his shoulders. Bad move in hindsight. But I knew Sam wanted me to be safe. After securing a safe spot, I looked up at my view of Sam. That was when I realised this was a very bad idea.

His eyes darkened, as he strummed his guitar with what I could only describe as rage. I thought back to the lack of attention he’d given me lately, the excuses of his ‘headaches’ or him being too ‘busy’. I enjoyed the rest of the concert on Alex’s shoulders, of course it meant nothing. No one would even come close to Sam, but I loved getting him riled up.

As the concert came to an end, I thanked Alex and his friends before quickly rushing back stage to meet Sam, who completely pushed past me in my attempt to congratulate him.

“Green room - now.” He demanded, not even glimpsing in my direction, although I knew he was talking to me. Everyone did.

Eager to please, I ran after him to the green room. When I arrived Sam was already opening a beer for himself. His back turned to me, his arms locked onto the table in the corner of the room. I could hear him taking deep breaths, he was pissed.

“You did amazing!” I said daringly.

Sam spun around at my words, his anger seeping through his facial expressions. He took a big swig of his beer before setting it down on the table with a loud thud.

“Aye, you had a decent view like, didn’t ya?” Sam taunted.

My face burnt red.

“He was just making sure I was safe, I thought that’s what you wanted.” I innocently spoke.

“Making sure you’re safe!” Sam laughed sarcastically. “He’d been practically shagging you with his eyes all night.”

“Well maybe some attention is nice, I don’t get it much elsewhere.” I knew it was a mistake, as soon as it came out of my mouth.

Sam flew towards me, pressing me against the door of the green room.

“Oh right, is that what it is? My needly little slut isn’t getting much attention is she?” His jaw tightened with every word as he looked harshly into my eyes.

I stared back at him, bucking my hips upwards to try and meet any sort of friction I could find. Sam clocked on straight away and began laughing to himself.

“So fucking desperate for me all the time. Just remind me who you belong to princess?” His voice was harsh in my ear.

“Y-you sir” I replied lowly.

“Ah right, so why is it you’re acting like a slut when daddy’s on stage? Huh?”

I didn’t answer. I had no answer for him. Nothing I said was going to suffice.

“Cat got your tongue darlin’?” He raised a hand around my neck. Not enough to hurt, but just enough to cut of a tiny bit of my air supply. My hips once again bucked up towards him as I moaned quietly at his roughness.

“God, you really can’t concentrate can you? All you think about is my cock, isn’t that right princess?”

I nodded, looking into his eyes.

He abruptly let go of my neck, his eyes darting to the sofa in the middle of the room.

“Take your dress off, get on all fours.”

I’ve never gotten undressed so quickly, as Sam stood and watched, I positioned myself on all fours for him. My back arched perfectly, ready to take him.

I heard his belt buckle coming undone. I gasped and jolted quickly when the belt struck my left arse cheek. He really was pissed off, but the action only fuelled my want for him more, heat building up in my core.

“Such a pretty little slut for me, it’s a shame you can’t be a good girl” Sam spoke as his belt came down for yet another spank. I moaned loudly this time.

“S-Sam, please. I’ll be good, just fuck me” I pleaded.

It was then that Sam thrust powerfully into me, sending my body forwards, my arms giving way until I was using my forearms to balance.

“Oh my god.” I moaned loudly at his thrusts as he bound my arms behind my back.

“Tell me who you belong to.” He demanded.

With tears in my eyes, I turned my face back towards him. “You Sam, only you.” I cried out to him in pure pleasure.

He grabbed my neck, pulling me up so my back was flush towards his front.

“Excuse me” his words spat in my ear.

“Sir, you sir. I’m sorry.”

His thrusts continued relentlessly, I felt that familiar burning in my stomach. A band ready to snap at any moment.

“I’m gonna cum sir!” I warned Sam.

“No you’re not, only good girls get to cum.” He spoke into my ear between breaths. His thrusts harder than ever.

Seconds before I’d managed to reach my peak, he spilled his load inside me before abruptly pulling out and using his fingers to ensure I was filled with his cum. I shuddered around them, chasing my orgasm that had disappeared with the absence of Sam’s cock in me.

“You show me how much of a good girl you can be, and maybe you can cum later.” He pulled his jeans up, securing his belt once more around them.

I stood in disbelief at his words, watching him as he scooped up my underwear and put them into his pocket.

“I think I’ll keep these, you won’t mind will you?” He looked up at me, a grin across his face.

[bangtanej]

Description: As an aspiring stylist with hopes to one day work for Ateez. You find yourself struggling to navigate through life. The trajectory of your life takes a drastic turn when you decide you need to see them one last time.

Trigger warnings: mentions of stalking, suggestive themes, mental breakdowns and overthinking, foul language and harassment

Word count: 5069

Editors: Spike/mal & Breezy

Chapter III

Another week had spun by, each day a subtle shift in the salon's rhythm leading to this momentous occasion: your very own station. The previous night, the air in the salon had hummed with a quiet excitement. Minjun stayed long after closing to help you set up everything and celebrate your start as a stylist. He also gave a heartfelt wish of luck for the impending battle of the ticket sale to come the next morning.

From the moment you'd left the salon that night, a persistent tightness had settled in your chest, and a fluttering chaos erupted in your stomach. It was a cocktail of anxiety and anticipation, a feeling only those who had braved the digital trenches of a Ticketmaster war could truly comprehend. It was incredibly uneasy but also brought an excitement that was unmatched.

The entire night became a restless landscape of tossing and turning, Sannie's annoyed sighs and nudges a testament to your agitated slumber. Yet, as all fitful nights do, it eventually surrendered to the insistent ringing of your alarm. It was an hour before the ticket sale and two hours before you needed to be at work. You opened the tab for the queue while simultaneously applying a light layer of makeup. You had also ordered a coffee for yourself and Minjun, to pick up before work, as a small gesture of gratitude.

You wanted to thank him, truly thank him, for his support. Even though it was just a small gesture you still wanted to convey your appreciation and your…care. “You care for him?” The thought echoed in your mind, a soft whisper that widened your eyes in surprised self awareness. "Did I really just admit that to myself?” The internal questioning was abruptly shattered by a jolt of pure adrenaline. The digital gates had opened. The sale had begun.

Agonizing slow, the number of fans that were in line before you decreased and it was your turn to choose your seats. What felt like an intense battle that went on for hours ended in a few seconds. Moments later your screen lit up to congratulate you. “You got’em! Let the anticipation begin!” Section 2 Row 1 Seat 5

Front and center. You would see them again. The very reason your heart beat a little faster, the source of an unwavering joy, would be within arm's reach once more. They were truly your biggest reason to exist.

Minjun had just stepped out of his car, he paused for a moment, his gaze drifting towards the familiar storefront of the salon. He took a deliberate breath to mentally prepare himself for the day ahead. As he approached the salon, he could make out your small silhouette waiting patiently just outside the glass doors. As your eyes met his, your whole body seemed to light up, you couldn’t wait to tell him and thank him.

With an almost childlike skip in your step, you closed the distance between you and your hand outstretched to offer the coffee. It was an iced americano, a small detail you had carefully noted as the drink he most often ordered. The expression that bloomed on his face reminded you of a delighted puppy greeting its beloved owner. He accepted the coffee with a murmured word of thanks, his fingers brushing yours in a fleeting moment, before gesturing with the cup towards the entrance of the salon.

Minjun: Let me take a wild guess. The coffee and child-like excitement is due to a certain ticket sale?

Y/n: I GOT THE TICKETS! And not just any tickets! Front row dead center!

Minjun’s lips curved into a teasing smirk, a playful roll of his eyes accompanied the gesture as he held the door open for you. Minjun understood your deep affection for them. He was a fan too but a more casual one. In all honesty you wouldn’t be a surprise if he was a more casual fan because he had a few idol friends. He had a massive following on social media and undeniable striking looks, he practically looked like an idol himself.

Minjun: Ok ok calm down. I’m very happy you got the tickets but you’re gonna have to…

His voice trailed off, his gaze abruptly fixed on something behind you. Minjun had froze… You stepped through the doorway, your attention still lingering on his expression, when the sharp, potent smell of bleach struck your nose. When your head turned to what had his attention you froze too. Your station had been tampered with. The beautiful white leather chair had what looked like hair dye splattered all over it. As you walked closer the products you had meticulously organized were scattered and were all missing their labels. The few that had clear bottles were nearly empty, their contents carelessly spilled. They were all brand new… Hesitantly you pulled open the drawers. The sight that greeted you sent despair through your body. Your tools were coated in a vial mixture of hair, dried dye, and crusty bleach. Every single one… your collection of combs, your hair pins, your new capes, your gloves, and even your hot tools were contaminated.

The weight of devastation crashed down on you. You crumbled to the floor, a silent scream trapped in your chest. Minjun, who had been standing behind you, instantly dropped beside you. His arms reaching out to steady your trembling body. When your gaze met his, the tears had already begun to pour from your eyes. You were supposed to start today and you already had a few appointments scheduled. It’ll take you all day to get this cleaned and you couldn’t afford to replace all of the products after splurging on your concert ticket.

While your thoughts raced, Minjun pulled you into his embrace. He had witnessed the very moment the light had extinguished from your eyes, leaving behind a hollow, vacant stare. Just moments later Yeona had stepped foot into the salon and the loud thud of her bag hitting the floor followed. You lifted your gaze over Minjun’s large frame, and through your tears saw Yeona running towards you.

Yeona: Holy fuck what happened here?!

Minjun: We just walked in here and found her station like this. I can promise you this is not how we left it last night. I helped her set everything up.

Yeona: Who was the last person in the salon?

Minjun: It was only us… She had helped everyone else clean up their stations so they could get home at a decent hour and I was the only one that stayed to help her.

Yeona: Ok I’ll look over the camera footage but I need you both to get this cleaned up. If someone from the state board walked in, there would be so many different violations against her license and the salon as a whole.

The silence that had clung to you throughout the ordeal was like a suffocating blanket woven from shock and disbelief. The emotions stirring inside of you had you shaking almost violently. You didn't know if it was the anger and frustration, or the overwhelming anxiety that came with the thought of the impending violations that could be on your license. It was only when you felt the ground underneath you disappear that a startled gasp finally escaped your lips. Minjun lifted you up and carried you towards the back. He carefully settled you into the soft chair, his movements tender and deliberate. Crouching before you, his gaze was filled with concern. His lips seemed to tremble slightly as he searched for the right words to comfort you.

Minjun: Take all the time you need in here, I’ll start cleaning up for you ok?

Words remained trapped in your throat, like an invisible barrier against the tide of emotions. All you could manage was a small nod. A comforting pat on your head from Minjun was a moment of solace before he returned to your station. Your mind suddenly hit that little trigger, the one that held the leash to all of your overwhelming thoughts. “I’m alone with my thoughts” The realization slammed into you. The insidious whispers began creeping into the forefront of your mind, each one sharp and cruel “Someone obviously doesn’t want you here” “I knew things were too good to be true” “I should have expected this, I know something always has to happen” “How the hell am I supposed to work now?”

The screaming in your head only got louder and louder. Each scream of self-doubt and despair threatened to consume you. It was only the delicate, sweet scent of cherry blossoms that cut through the noise like a lifeline in the storm. With her presence alone you were able to hear over your thoughts. Yeona enveloped you, her arms were a haven of warmth and security. Your hands clenched into fists, clinging onto her cardigan as the sobs you had desperately fought to suppress finally broke free, echoing through the salon.

Once the storm had subsided, Yeona gently guided you to her office to look over the footage. As the footage flickered to life on the screen, a tall figure cloaked in black entered the salon around 1am. You watched intently as you saw the figure begin to rave havoc on your station. The figure even stooped to gather discarded hair from the garbage bin, using it to further desecrate your workspace. Suddenly, Yeona paused the footage, her finger pointing to the screen, singling out the perpetrator in the darkness.

Yeona: I know it’s a stupid question but do you have any idea who this could be?

Y/n: I’m sorry, I don’t know.

Yeona: Don’t apologize, none of this is your fault. I just have to ask because this is technically a break in and vandalization of property. I’ll be submitting a police report and will need you to give a statement since you were the target.

Y/n: I just really don’t understand why?

Yeona: Was there anyone in school that didn’t like you or an ex that wants to get back at you?

Y/n: I don’t think so, I got along well with all of my classmates. Even if we didn’t talk much we were all nice to each other. And my ex doesn’t live in the area anymore, I find it hard to believe he would drive all the way here just to do this.

A knock on the door behind you interrupted, pulling you from the unsettling replay of the footage. Minjun's head appeared tentatively around the doorframe, his expression a mixture of concern and unease. He entered the office with hesitant steps, holding out a folded piece of paper that was found in the wreckage. A furrow of confusion creased Yeona's brow as she accepted the paper, her gaze flicking between the note and Minjun before both their eyes settled on you. Yeona gently slid the paper across the desk, placing it directly in front of you, you could swear your heart stopped. The numbers "1117" were the only inscription.

Y/n: That’s… That’s my address.

Yeona: Fuck that, I’m calling the cops right now. After you give your statement you’re calling a friend and staying with them or they stay with you. Do you have anyone to call?

Y/n: I could call my friend Sky but they’re working right now.

Yeona: When do they get off?

Y/n: They work as a chef and usually don't get off until the restaurant closes.

Minjun: I’ll take her for now.

Without a moment's hesitation, Yeona reached for her phone and dialed 911. It wasn’t long before uniformed officers filled the salon. While one officer listened intently as you recounted the horrifying discovery, another meticulously reviewed the security footage, his gaze sharp and analytical. A third carefully surveyed the scene of devastation at your station, his movements precise as he documented the damage. They had concluded there were no signs of forced entry and the alarm system was disabled. The chilling implication hung heavy in the air – someone with intimate knowledge of the salon, either a current or former employee, had likely aided the intruder.

The investigation necessitated a disruption to the salon's schedule. One by one, the stylists cleared their appointments as they underwent questioning by the officers. As soon as Minjun had completed his interview, his concern etched on his face and he gently guided you out of the salon. By the time you were seated in the passenger seat of his car, the familiar route towards home stretched before you. A profound mental exhaustion had taken hold of you. Your thoughts were a tangled mess and your energy completely depleted.

Minjun could read the weariness draped on your face and the unmistakable look of defeat clouding your eyes. As he parked the car in the familiar spot at your apartment complex, he reached into the back seat, retrieving a soft hoodie. He turned and offered it to you, his eyes urging you to put it on.

Y/n: I’m not cold but appreciate the thought-

Minjun: It’s not to keep you warm, it's to keep you safe. Anyone can technically look up the address to an apartment complex but that creep may not know what apartment you’re in yet.

The quiet thoughtfulness of his gesture resonated deeply with you. You knew Minjun possessed a kind and considerate nature, he was the type of person who would undoubtedly extend the same care to anyone in need. Yet, the fact that this small act of comfort was directed specifically towards you stirred something within your chest, a delicate flutter that made your heart do a curious little skip. The unspoken emotions left you speechless, so you accepted the offered hoodie, pulling it over your head with a quiet obedience.

The soft fabric enveloped you, carrying his scent like an invisible embrace. It was the distinct aroma of a fresh woodland after a rain shower, grounding and clean, with an underlying hint of something sweet and familiar. It was a smell you hadn’t realized you were getting accustomed to. As Minjun came around the car to open your door, you stepped out into the evening air. With a gentle hand, he reached up and pulled the hood over your brightly colored hair, then softly guided you towards your apartment.

Minjun: Do you get to your apartment the same way every time?

Y/n: Yes I do.

Minjun: Start going the opposite way. I can also start picking you up and dropping you off from work. I know it seems like much but I just don’t want anything to happen to you.

You led Minjun towards the quieter back entrance of the apartment complex. Then entered the elevator that ascended smoothly to the third floor. Your apartment, number 35, was nestled closer to the center of the hallway. As you walked, you couldn't help but notice Minjun's observant gaze, subtly scanning the hallway, his eyes lingering on the discreet placement of security cameras. Once you had gotten to the door and put in the passcode, Minjun gently stopped you before you could fully enter your haven. He turned his attention to the keypad, his brow furrowed in concentration as he began the process of resetting your entry code.

Y/n: What are you doing??

Minjun: Resetting your code.

Y/n: I can see that, but why?

Minjun: So they can’t guess your code.

Y/n: How would they guess it??

Minjun: Y/n you do realize that your floor mat is Halateez and anyone could guess their anniversary is your passcode.

Your silence said it all, he read you like a book and called you out at the same time. He reached for the keypad and reset the security code, anchoring your safety to the familiar date of his mother’s birthday – December 4th, a date effortlessly memorable by association to Jin of BTS’ birthday.

Stepping back into the safety of your apartment felt like a sudden release, yet the emotional residue of the day clung to you. The moment the door clicked shut, your legs seemed to give way, and you all but collapsed onto the soft cushions of the couch. You hadn’t done much work but being so emotional all day left you drained. Minjun's cheerful laughter bubbled through the quiet, followed by insistent, playful pokes. A groan escaped your lips, a protest against the intrusion. With monumental effort, fueled by a sliver of stubborn will, you pushed yourself upright. Your eyes, still clouded with the lingering weariness, fixed on Minjun with an intense glare.

Minjun: Look grumpy, I just want you to be able to shower or at least change so you’re comfortable before you lay down. I also need a blanket and pillow to sleep on.

Y/n: WHOA HOLD UP! You’re staying here?? I already texted Sky that I would like them to stay the night.

Minjun: Well it looks like we’re all having a sleepover. So what do you guys wanna watch? SkzCode? GoSe? Wanteez? Or should we go OG and watch Run BTS?

Y/n: I can’t stand you.

Minjun: Come take a seat then.

Minjun’s playful pat on his lap was a deliberate, teasing gesture, a spark that instantly ignited a blush that bloomed across your cheeks. The heat spread rapidly and with a sharp, wordless movement you practically stormed towards the bathroom. The click of the closing door was a desperate attempt to create a barrier between you and the unexpected intimacy of his flirtation. Even through the thick wood, his unrestrained laughter echoed. You had always been aware of Minjun’s lighthearted, occasionally suggestive nature, but this felt different, a step across an unspoken boundary.

Once you were in the shower, the warm cascade was a balm to your frayed nerves, each droplet a tiny messenger carrying away the day's anxieties and now, the lingering heat of Minjun's teasing. The faint vibration of your phone was swallowed by the rush of the water. It was likely just Sky, their usual message signaling the end of their shift and their soon arrival. You left it be for the time being until a series of sharp, insistent thuds shook the small apartment. You twisted the faucet, the sudden silence amplifying the frantic sounds. Hastily, wrapping a towel around your dripping body and bursting from the bathroom.

Nothing could have prepared you for the tableau that unfolded before your eyes.The apartment door stood wide open like an invitation to the chaos within. Minjun was laid across the floor while Sky loomed over him, their hand clenching on the fabric of his shirt collar. The air crackled with a raw, unspoken tension. The instant Sky’s gaze locked onto yours, their entire demeanor shifted. The aggressive energy that had radiated from them just moments before seemed to dissipate, replaced by a visible wave of embarrassment that washed over their features. Their grip on Minjun’s shirt loosened, and they straightened up, their eyes now wide with a mixture of surprise and somewhat guilt.

Sky: Uh my love… Why on earth would you have me come over when you seem to already have an appointment?

Y/n: Appointment?!

Your gaze snapped towards Minjun, who was awkwardly pushing himself up from the floor. Suddenly everything looked so much worse than it was. The scene before you warped, the innocent misunderstanding turned into something far more suggestive. Your mind raced, piecing together the fragmented reality from Sky’s perspective. For starters, your best friend couldn’t open the door. They were always accustomed to walking in and out of your apartment like family. The one time they weren’t able to, a total stranger greeted them at your doorstep. A male stranger… Then, the final, bewildering piece of the puzzle: their best friend bursting out from the bathroom, with nothing but a towel. The situation couldn’t be more odd than this.

Driven by an urgent need to regain control, you rushed past a still dazed Minjun and slammed the apartment door shut. Pivoting sharply, you crossed the living room in a few swift strides, your hand instinctively reaching for Sky. You grasped their arm, pulling them not so gently towards your bedroom, and secured the lock behind you. As you fumbled for clothes in your closet, your voice a rushed torrent of explanation, you recounted the day’s escalating anxieties to Sky. You started with the unsettling discovery of your vandalized station, the chilling realization of a possible stalker lurking in the shadows. And finally, Minjun’s presence as a concerned friend offering a semblance of security. Throughout your hurried explanation, you fought your damned hardest to ignore the almost amused curve of Sky’s lips. A subtle smirk that hinted at a narrative far different from the one your panicked mind had constructed.

Sky: Soooo, you’re gonna tell me the hottie out there, is the same coworker you found attractive and the same guy going out of his way to make sure you’re ok?

Y/n: Sky don’t even start-

Sky: Oh but my love, you started this and your oblivious ass can’t seem to see it. Don’t get me wrong, he’s no Choi San, but definitely a big upgrade from what’s his face.

Y/n: Anyone is better than my ex in your eyes.

Sky: Well duh, but still he’s fucking hot and you know its rare that we both agree a man is hot. A man specifically.

Y/n: It’s a rare occasion because you're gay.

Sky: Not totally gay and you know that.

Y/n: Yeosang doesn’t count.

Sky: You know what, fuck you. Yes he does. You have a possible contender out there and you’re not gonna take the chance?

Minjun: You guys know I can hear you right?!

Minjun's voice, muffled yet clearly audible through the closed bedroom door, cut through the tense atmosphere, causing both of you to freeze. The shared look of “oh shit” was priceless, but the joke born of the bizarre circumstances that would remain locked within the confines of that room. Sky, who was slightly more composed, cautiously eased the bedroom door open and peered out into the living room. Minjun had already made himself comfortable on your couch, one arm draped casually over the cushions, while the other held his phone up to scroll, seemingly oblivious to the whirlwind of confusion he had created.

Sky: Mind your business.

Minjun: I AM the business apparently.

Sky: Says who?

Minjun: Says you?

Sky: No, I didn’t. Neither did she. So says you and that’s supposed to mean something to me?

Minjun: No need to gaslight me but I can play along if you ask nicely.

Sky dramatically gagged in response. While they might have acknowledged Minjun’s attractiveness in the privacy of your bedroom, the very notion of admitting it to his face was apparently a fate worse than death. You cautiously peeked into the living room, observing the escalating, yet seemingly lighthearted, bickering between Sky and Minjun. Their playful jabs and exaggerated sighs suggested a comfortable familiarity. Taking advantage of their distraction, you quietly slipped out of the bedroom and made your way towards the kitchen. The emotional rollercoaster of the day had left you with no appetite for anything. You were simply running off of the coffee you had that morning.

As you scanned your pantry for sustenance, a soft meow drew your attention. Sannie had made his way to the counter and was waiting for his food. It was well past his designated dinner time, and a pang of guilt twisted in your stomach. A wave of apologetic affection washed over you as you nearly panicked and served his food with the speed of light.

Y/n: I’m so sorry my precious boy! Mom was so caught up in everything and forgot to feed you!

Sannie didn't even acknowledge your haste, his focus entirely on his food. Only once his bowl was empty did he lift his head, offering a soft nuzzle against your outstretched palm. You could sense a hint of his displeasure at the delayed meal, a subtle grumpiness that thankfully didn't outweigh his inherent need for affection. After all he was a love bug, but also a master manipulator who had even learned a repertoire of adorable tricks specifically designed to grab your attention.

Though, the sweet reverie of your bond with Sannie was abruptly shattered by the approaching presence behind you. Minjun was reaching over your shoulder, his large hand extended towards the counter, presumably to offer some belated attention to the little king himself. Under normal circumstances, anyone seeking the favor of your cherished cat would be welcomed. However, the cramped confines of your kitchen amplified the situation tenfold. Its narrow width could accommodate two people comfortably, but meaning literally shoulder-to-shoulder. Sannie’s food bowl resided in the far corner, where the countertop met the wall. This unfortunate placement meant that you were effectively cornered, trapped between a wall, the edge of the countertop, and a massive Minjun.

The realization of your predicament sparked an instantaneous reaction. Whether it was a surge of claustrophobia or a pure fight-or-flight response, you weren't entirely sure. One moment you were standing, the next you had dropped to the floor with surprising agility, scrambling around Minjun’s legs in a desperate bid for escape. To say Minjun was bewildered by your sudden descent would be an understatement. His expression was a mask of utter confusion. Sky on the other hand was not at all surprised and was actually laughing hysterically at your undignified retreat.

Y/n: The hell was that??

Minjun: I wanted to pet the kitty.

Sky: Which one?

Minjun simply shrugged at Sky’s teasing remark, a smug, knowing smirk playing on his lips. Your eyes narrowed, sending silent daggers in both their directions. It was one thing to constantly endure Sky’s playful jabs and unhinged commentary, but Minjun joining in on the torment was almost unbearable. The thought of navigating an entire night with this newly formed alliance of teasers filled you with a sense of weary dread. A silent debate began to brew in your mind about the pros and cons of resorting to eviction. The only problem with that, was the inconvenient truth that both of them now possessed the code to your door. Defeated, you abandoned all pretense of composure and launched yourself towards the welcoming embrace of the couch, your body colliding with the soft cushions in a dramatic collapse.

Sky: Bitch come on, this is the first time I agree with a man. I want you guys to happen!

Your face was pressed firmly into the fabric of the couch, the muffled scent of home filling your nostrils. In that moment, the idea of being gently suffocated by the plush material was a fate you would not mind. If Minjun’s interest was genuine, a part of you longed to explore the possibility, and step outside the boundaries of friendship. But the scars of past romances still ached, leaving you paralyzed by a deep seated fear of vulnerability. Sensing your fragile state, Sky seized the opportunity for further playful torment, settling onto the couch cushion next to where your head lay buried and launching a ticklish assault on your sides. “Oo no tat don ork” Was the muffled noise that came from you.

Sky: I can’t understand you.

Y/n: You know that doesn’t work.

With a groan of resignation, you pushed yourself into a sitting position. Your gaze drifted across the room to find Minjun now comfortably seated in your recliner and Sannie curled contently in his lap, purring like a tiny motor. With both of them staring at you, you instinctively drew your knees to your chest, wrapping your arms tightly around your legs. Seeking a small measure of comfort and self protection. The whirlwind of emotions from the day, coupled with this unexpected and somewhat overwhelming dynamic between your two closest friends, seemed all too soon.

Y/n: Look, I don't know if Minjun is actually serious or not. But for right now I don’t want anything, there's too much happening all at once.

Sky: Even if it’s not serious, he would at least make sure you’re not touch starved anymore.

Y/n: SKY I'M SERIOUS!

Sky: Ok, ok, serious time.

Minjun: You know I can still hear you right? Don’t I get a say in any of this?

Sky: Not right now sweetie, the grownups are talking very seriously. We know you’re there, we’re just choosing to ignore you.

Minjun: Well, I would like to be acknowledged when I say that my feelings aren’t a joke. To say I haven’t developed any sort of feelings would be total bullshit, but it’s still too soon for me to tell. Not only that, the conversion you guys had in the bedroom, seemed like you’ve had it rough with relationships. I don’t want to rush you if you’re not ready because that’ll hurt us both.

Sky: Sweetie this is why I said the grownups are talking, she just needs a good dicking down to move on.

Sky would soon regret those words. With a swift movement, you snatched the nearest couch cushion and hurled it, the soft projectile colliding squarely with their face. Their reaction was nothing short of theatrical. Clutching their cheek with exaggerated pain, they gasped dramatically. Their eyes widened and glistened with mock tears, staring at you as if they had just received a mortal injury.

Y/n: I’d appreciate if you’d be quiet for just two fucking seconds… Minjun, I know there’s something there but it is all too soon. And plus I can’t risk that fucking creep hurting you.

Sky, witnessing this sudden shift in your demeanor and the unexpected vulnerability in your confession, instantly dropped their act. Their playful facade crumbled, replaced by an expression of genuine bewilderment. They were unable to fully process the words that had just fallen from your lips, especially admitting it so openly in front of them. As much as Sky’s teasing tactics could be perceived as cruel, they were often rooted in keen understanding of your inner workings. They possessed an uncanny ability to read you like an open book, their insights usually piercingly accurate. In return, they themselves were an open book, their emotions and intentions rarely concealed, making your sudden, unguarded confession all the more impactful.

[raccoonfallsharder]

✩࿐࿔ do your damn stretches. [new 6/3]

✩࿐࿔ take what you need masterlist | take what you need queue fanfiction masterlist | navigation

fluff | gn reader | no use of y/n | anthology one-shot | word count: 1,980. read ✩࿐࿔ do your damn stretches on ao3 excerpt & warnings below the cut.

the captain expects you to take care of your body, like a finicky firearm that needs a little extra daily maintenance. so add your stretches to your daily frickin' schedule and don't skip 'em, or he'll sic nebs on you.

for @raccoon-coded ♡♡♡♡ i hope this is even a little bit helpful (i know every body is different and so maybe the result of not-doing-your-stretches doesn't line up exactly with the "you" of this scene, but i hope it's at least somewhat relatable). and i hope that when you are tempted to not prioritize your stretches, you can imagine rocket banging on your door at the same time every day to demand you stick to your schedule.

The voice is far too concerned to be the Captain’s. That’s why you don’t clock it at first: too focused on bunching your muscles, then flexing them — trying to be subtle while you’re surrounded by the Knowhere nightlife. It seems like every other cycle brings some new neighborhood-festivities to the city of Exitar. Usually, these parties are pretty chill: laughing couplets and quintets, drifting in and out of the edges of the street and the open-front bars like starfish when the tides come in. Every night here feels like cool summer — at least when the climate control’s not on the fritz, or Rocket hasn’t turned it down for the Christmas party. The shadows are long and lean and purple, singed at the edges with the warm glow of countless tiny plasma-orbs, tinkling and jingling on their strings like little windchimes. Every breath tastes like spices from the orloni vendor’s stall, sweetened by the astringent fruity smash of spilled skullside moonshine, and cut through by the burnt-ozone and hot-metal scent of fireworks. Well, fewer fireworks and more gunfire, probably. But still, nights like this always call up the scent-memory of your first open-air concert on Terra, and how everything had smelled like summer nightskies and booze and pyrotechnics. Which is why you’re here, soaking up the atmosphere like you do every time there’s a celebration. You grin while you watch a few Star Kids bouncing through the streets, playing some sort of game that reminds you of hopscotch. Endless laughing clusters of adults ramble past, too: pausing to ask how you are, offering to bring you drinks. Normally, you’d be with them: weaving your way through the throngs of people garlanding the edges of the streets, bringing the Broker another cocktail because he’s just always adorably surprised whenever someone does something nice for him. Maybe trading playful insults with Howard, till he gets so flustered and annoyed that he quacks at you. But a lack of attention to your body the past few rotations has instead resulted in this: you, alone, perching on the sidelines — lounging on a bone-brick retaining wall while the rest of Exitar’s citizens swirl around you in little eddies and flows. It’s not so bad, you think as you try to surreptitiously flex and stretch your body, smiling and nodding when Steemie strolls by and grins a hello and a crinkle-eyed smile your way. You may not be enjoying your night the way you normally would, but you are still enjoying it. “Kid,” the voice says impatiently, which is when you realize it does belong to the Captain after all, and that he’s talking to you. “I asked you a frickin’ question.” You blink and half-twist so you can peer over your shoulder, surprised to find him close enough to touch, and almost at eye-level thanks to your seated position. “Oh, hi,” you greet, your smile curling your lips happily. It’s always nice to see him — even when he’s being an ass — but it’s especially good on nights like this, when he actually lets himself come down and join in the community that he’s worked so hard to create and protect. “What was the question?” He crosses his arms across the soft blue canvas of his shirt and squints one eye, raking it over you. “I asked if you’re okay.”

read more on ao3 ✩࿐࿔ for nonnie ♡ ✩࿐࿔ take what you need masterlist | take what you need queue

need more reminders from rocket?

the world is hard, and sometimes it's difficult to complete daily tasks & take care of yourself (aka rocket bullies you for your own damn good).

feel free to ✩ request reminders ✩ via reblogs, asks, and tumblr or ao3 comments if they would be helpful for you. it may take me a hot minute to get to them depending on life n stuff, but i will do my best. ♡ view the take what you need queue to see upcoming installations & the current backlog. SOFT HIATUS: feel free to request things but i am going to take a brief break from twyn. i got a few requests here on tumblr for other things i'd like to take a crack at!

this is about as wholesome as it gets (for me) i think. can be read platonically or romantically. mcu-based anthology, meant to take place post-volume-3, but headcanon however you want ♡

✩࿐࿔ take what you need masterlist

eat somethin. (wc: 576)

go to frickin bed already. (wc: 737)

get outta bed & get your shit done.(wc: 925)

take a damn bath. (wc: 1,375)

leave your frickin skin alone. (wc: 1,579)

take a fuckin study break.(wc: 1,020)

drink some goddamn water. (wc: 1,209)

stop destroying your frickin clothes. (wc: 1,609)

just buy the damn thing already. (wc: 1,271)

it's frickin laundry day. (wc: 1,923)

get some sunshine, sunshine. (wc: 1,614)

did you take your damn meds today? (wc: 1,288)

schedule your fuckin' appointments.(wc: 1,222)

do your goddamn dishes. (wc: 994)

brush your frickin' teeth. (wc: 1,774)

nobody fuckin hates you (wc: 1,231)

stop biting your goddamn nails (wc: 2,920)

take a frickin' shower (wc: 1,359 )

take care of your fuckin injury (wc: 2,102)

cook some goddamn food. (wc: 2,707)

clean your frickin room. (wc: 2,465)

stop hittin shit. (wc: 1,862)

do your frickin homework. (wc: 2,121 )

chill the fuck out. (wc: 1,499)

i'm damn proud a' you, kid. (wc: 1,639)

fuck heartache. (wc: 1,781)

stop frickin' apologizing. (wc: 1,207)

brush your fuckin' hair. (wc: 1,649)

stop bein' a jerk to yourself. (wc: 1,490)

do your damn stretches. (wc: 1,980)

if you find any of these at all helpful, they're meant for you.

teacup and teal line dividers by @/saradika-graphics | support banner by @/saradika-graphics | raccoon divider by @/thecutestgrotto. total wordcount: 47,160.

[girls-alias]

Dean's Dream P2 Smut

Title: Dean's Dream P2 Smut

Words: 1749 [Bit long, my apologies]

Relations: Dean Winchester X Reader.

TW: Smut Chapter.

Please don't read if you don't like smut. This is a smut-only chapter.

This chapter won't affect the storyline and so is skip-able.

Prompt:

Dean is captured by a Djinn and dreams of Y/N.

Part 1

Summary for context:

Dean was abducted by a Djinn and this is his dream. Y/N is his girlfriend and he woke up in her bed. He couldn't remember anything and thought she was a one-night stand. Once he saw her, the photo on her drawers of them kissing and her explaining they had already said I love you confused Dean but from her smile, and certainly from her kiss he knew he was home, where he was supposed to be. With her. They have a little free time before they have to go see Sam.

SMUT (Last Warning) Third person POV:

Dean dug his nails into her waist and she moaned softly into his mouth only cementing the fact that he wanted her. Her hand moved up and softly yanked at the hair on the back of his head, it was unexpected for him and yet found that he liked it. He instantly understood she liked it rough. He grinned against her lips before his tongue tried to grace her bottom lip but her mouth was already open, ready for him like she knew he would do it.

This only excited Dean more, he could sense this had been done many times before, none of which he could remember. She seemed to know his body better than anyone ever had, she knew exactly where to run her fingertips, where to squeeze and where to avoid. Dean found it extremely refreshing that someone was actually interested in pleasing him as well. It only made him want her more.

His hands slid down to her ass, and she seemed to take it as a queue to jump. He effortlessly caught her weight and held her close. The kiss deepened as their tongues danced and her soft moans from his rough touch turned him crazy. She moved her hand to Dean's cheek and his eyebrows twitched, this didn't feel like it was just sex, it was love.

Y/N pulled away slightly, her lips quickly finding his neck. "I'm not a big fa-" Dean couldn't finish his sentence as he sucked air through his teeth, eyes rolling back as his hands squeezed her ass tighter. He had never found much pleasure in neck kisses but she knew exactly where to attack, she found a spot no other girl had found, a spot that made his knees almost buckle. It fuelled his desire. He bit his bottom lip bringing an arm around her back to hold the back of her shoulder tightly. His erection got harder and harder as she continued to suck and nibble harshly on the spot which made him make noises he didn't know he could make.

Her back muscles moved against his touch, he loosened his grip figuring he was hurting her. She pulled away to smirk at him. Their breath was erratic from the passion and rising pulse they shared. He bit his bottom lip taking the time to look at her deeply, admiring her beauty. Her eyes were full of lust, pupils dilated clearly seeing what she wanted and ready to take it. She smiled a little brighter. "Are you going to stare at me all day or fuck my brains out?" She asked softly, almost whispering. He grinned causing her to giggle as he lowered them onto the bed, he hovered over her. She connected their lips, making out with as much passion as their bodies would allow. Dean placed a hand on her waist pushing her down into the bed trying to resist his urges to devour her. She didn't seem to hold back.

She pulled the string on her silk robe, the tie coming undone and her gown resting open. Dean's hands instantly moved the robe aside to grip her waist without fabric in the way. Her left hand moved to the waistband of his boxers. Dean's heart skipped as she started pushing them aside. Dean hesitated, he reluctantly disconnected their lips to look at her, lust in his eyes matching hers. "You sure?" He asked apprehensively, a part of him worried she would say no but she chuckled softly. She kissed him slowly but with just as much passion as before. He never experienced such a sweet kiss.

"You'd think after 2 years you'd stop asking and know by now that I have a higher sex drive than you," She expressed, her smile bright and lighting Dean's world a little brighter. He grinned, swooping down to connect their lips again. He helped her pull his boxers down and he was left bare. Her hand reached down, jerking his throbbing hard cock in her soft hands. Dean groaned, pulling his lips away to take a deep and shaky breath. His eyes were screwed shut as he resisted pushing his hips into her hand. She moaned, her hips rolling, feeling empty and needing him. Dean's breath was quick as she tristed her hand slightly, he gasped feeling pleasure he'd never come close to. He rested his forehead on her shoulder, eyes screwed shut, the pleasure riding his spine the way he needed her to ride him, relentlessly.

"I need you, Dean." She whispered seductively in his ear, he moaned at her saying his name. He felt as though now that he'd heard her say it that way no one else was allowed to say it. It was only her. He moved a hand from her waist to find where she needed him, as soon as his fingertips came in contact with her clit she gasped. She didn't seem to have noise control as her moans filled the room. Dean throbbed in her hand, the moans alone were enough to edge him. Dean connected his lips to the shoulder he had been resting on and bit down slightly using all of his willpower to resist her a little longer, his fingers moving down and instantly taking in how wet he had made her. He groaned knowing she was ready for him. She needed this just as much as he did.

"Fuck, you're so wet," He expressed through a groan. She yelped softly as he slid a finger inside her. His other hand on the back of her neck, holding his weight with his elbow and forearm, gripped tighter.

"Fuck my brains out baby," She moaned out breathlessly. He took no more convincing as he pulled his fingers out and sat up, he looked down at her as she moved her hand from around his cock. He took the time to admire her, he saw utter perfection. His mouth went dry as his breath remained quick and erratic. She bit her bottom lip knowing no matter how many times he saw her naked she would still feel the same as the first time, like her body was the only one he would ever need to see. He pulled her legs down slightly before he lined his cock to her entrance. Her eyes rolled to the back of her head anticipating him inside her.

"You're so fucking hot," He breathed out before pushing his hips into hers. His cock entered her fully. He gripped her hips harshly feeling immobilised by her inside. He locked his arms so he wouldn't fall. She moaned as he twitched inside her. She gripped at the bed sheets beneath her. "Fuck," He gasped before slowly pulling out and hesitating, he pushed deep inside her. She moaned loudly, already almost screaming. It spurred Dean on as he wanted to make her scream his name. The best prize in the world.

"Fuck Dean." She moaned, her back arching up from the bed, bringing his attention to her perfect breasts. He moved his left hand to kneed her right tit. She groaned in her throat, her head digging into the bed. He thrust into her a little faster, finding a pace that made her moan the most. He took a deep breath and tried resisting he didn't want to be too rough but he was unsure how long he could hold back. Amazing sensations vibrated their muscles with each thrust. She looked deep into Dean's eyes, a smirk raising half her lip. Dean was mesmerised but continued to thrust knowing if he stopped now it would only hurt him. "Fuck me like you mean it, Dean," She tempted. His breath hitched in his throat, he searched her expression for a hint of apprehension but she looked more sure of this than Dean was sure she was perfect. He nodded slightly, stopping only momentarily to adjust his position. He raised his hips and held her hips in both his hands. She gulped with anticipation as she knew what pleasure she was about to share with the love of her life.

He pulled his hips back, taking a second to breathe before thrusting into her deep and hard as he pulled her hips down to meet him. She moaned, a scream finally leaving her lips and he knew he would kill to hear it again. He did it again, the same pause, the same power. He groaned as he wanted nothing more than to go faster, his pleasure only building the more she moaned, she was getting close, he could feel it, he knew. "Faster, Dean. Fuck, please," She moaned between thrusts. He panted, his nails digging into her skin as he watched her tits bounce as he pulled her hips harshly into his. He continued, taking out the pause he was previously doing and pounded into her relentlessly. He groaned, his orgasm growing close as he watched her whimper and squirm, he caused this.

"Fuck, baby," He hissed as her walls squeezed his hard cock pounding into her, she giggled slightly as she bit her bottom lips. She found his eyes, he was lost in them, groaning as he breathed out knowing the eye contact only made his orgasm grow unbearably close. He thrust into her once again, harder than before. She screamed as her back rose from the bed momentarily.

"Fuck, Dean. I'm gonna cum," She screamed as he continued. His eyes screwed shut at her words, the tension inside him ready to release inside her.

"Fuck," He groaned. She screamed as she came. Her vagina tightened around his throbbing dick. "Fuck, I'm cumming," He exclaimed as he pulled her in even deeper. He felt the orgasms pressure release as he came inside her, he knew he had never cum so hard. She yelped, biting her lip as his cum shot hard inside her, hitting the spot that made her body weak. He groaned, his thrusts getting sloppier as his breath quickened, riding out their orgasms. His eyes finally opened but were clouded with darkness, the only noise in the room was their deep breathing. He pulled out slowly, admiring as she bit her lips, her eyebrows twitching as she found pleasure in that too. He moved to her side to lie down. He tried to catch his breath as she turned to her side, facing him. He lifted his arm to wrap it around her as she rested her head on his chest.

His mind is swimming.

MASTERLIST

Part 3