#I’ve had it 3 years and I can keep it decorated and put it in a box in my garage

[plotismade]

Whilst I’m drunk enough to post personal shit how cute is my mini Christmas tree?!?

[ctrlhope]

The Pitfalls of Silk (m)

synopsis: The winter gods are out to get you. That could be the only possible explanation for the series of bad luck tumbling before you— tropical vacation cancelled, snow locking you inside. Hell, even your shovel broken in half has got to be the gods playing some sort of trick on you. Pulling you along, making decisions for you as they guide you along the red string of fate. Guide you towards the very spider that found his way into your basement. Allowing him to fall into your heart all the same. -> apart of the rest, relax, reserve series

p.jimin x f.reader

⋆𐙚┊: wc: 20.0k

⋆𐙚┊: genre: hybrid au, soft yandere, soulmate au, romance, fluff, smut, v light angst

⋆𐙚┊: content: spider hybrid!jimin (cobalt blue tarantula), human!reader, soft yandere jimin, dom!jimin, power imbalances, blood, blood kink, injury, mates / mating, stupid misunderstandings, reader is rlly bad at feelings, heat/rut cycles, jealousy, biting/marking, jimin has fangs, brat taming, light subspace, bondage, fingering, breeding / breeding kink, unprotected sex, cumplay, overstimulation, manipulation, mentions of kidnapping, mentions of venom, honestly rlly soft- jimin is just a little off his rocker, so many mentions of the word silk, jimin is soft for reader but also a little perverted freak <\3

⋆𐙚┊: notes: AHHH it’s finally here!!! I’ve had such a bad crush on spider jimin for such a long time. Creating his character over the years in my head— how exactly this type of hybrid would function was so fun for me. This fic (& the others that follow) has been spurred on by my special interest in arthropods so I hope you end up loving this jimin as much as I do <33 mwah I kiss u guys

18+ -> minors / blank blogs dni

The weather has grown cold, too harsh for anyone to live outside— survive. Burly temperatures tumbling through the air in icicles, the entire world painted in white.

While the city was still busy, your quaint neighbourhood had gone completely quiet. Everyone huddled inside, trying to keep warm while they sipped on cocoa. The worst blizzard in generations deciding to tumble through on the exact weekend you were meant to go out of town. Meant to be enjoying a tropical beach with the best of your friends!

But nooo, all of the planes had to stay grounded and you had to be stuck in your house with nothing but chilly embers decorating your fireplace.

You were pissed about it all, to say the least. Annoyed that your vacation had to be cancelled, annoyed at the fact you couldn’t stay warm in the slightest, annoyed that you had to be shovelling snow out of your driveway right now.

Well, attempting to shovel snow would be a better way to put it. In theory it seemed like the right thing to do– try and get your car out just in case, start to clear a path for when you’d finally be able to greet the outside world, triumph over whatever winter gods are trying to keep you locked in your home.

In reality, you could hardly move– three layers of pants, two coats keeping all of your joints locked down. God, and the snow. It was coming down way too hard, piling up faster than you could brush it away. Hurting your cheeks with the freezing temperatures, making your bones throb with want to go back inside.

It is safe to say that you did not succeed. That was an easy enough conclusion to come to with the two halves of your snow shovel in your hands. Eyes staring blankly at the object with utter… you don’t even know the word.

Cheeks flushed red with cold, head lifting to the sky as you blink. What the fuck! How shitty can your shovel be! What the fuck is wrong with the snow!

Okay, maybe you did buy it at the dollar store. But that isn’t the point! Where has quality gone in our nation! Caring about the consumer! Yeah, that was never there to begin with! But still! You like to think that there's a point in that somewhere!

The snow falling on your skin feels like the sky is laughing at you, mocking you. It probably is. Cancelling your trip, forcing you to stay at home into the lonely confines of your small neighbourhood.

Yeah, the world is out to get you, you’ve decided it.

A grumble leaves your throat in annoyance, quiet cusses leaving your lips as your legs try to waddle themselves inside. Layers of clothing restricting every movement you make, joints feeling stiff and bones feeling cold. You are no more than a penguin, are you?

“Stupid fuckin’ shovel, stupid fuckin’ snow…” You huff, slamming the thick oak door behind you. Hoping, in a way, that you could pretend none of the frost was there in the first place.

It’s not that you hate snow– of course not. You don’t like to hate much of anything. But when it’s this deep, this thick, you can’t help the sour mood you fall into. Can’t help the sickly feeling in your gut that it has somehow wronged you simply for existing.

Whatever, not that it matters much. You aren’t mother nature. You can’t change it or your now cancelled– most likely non-refundable plans.

What you can change? A nice warm pizza in your tummy.

You hum to yourself, tapping off your boots before ridding yourself of them entirely. Soon follows your jackets, puddles of water quickly forming on the floor where it falls. Snow melting much too fast now that it is in the warmth of your home.

You stare at it in spite, another way mother nature has wronged you today.

You know what? No, not your problem right now. That is a problem for you later today! The wood would be fine. And if it isn’t?

…

You groan, throwing your head back as you move to the bathroom. The battle of opposing forces inside of your head has won again– being responsible, doing the right thing.

Your hand snatches a towel, “Stupid shovel… stupid snow…” You huff, kneeling on the ground to wipe away the liquid that pooled.

You hang the towel back in the bathroom for it to dry before finally making your way to the kitchen. To finally make the frozen pizza you want– no deserve! Yeah, you’ve had a hard day today, being an adult is too hard sometimes. You deserve a little treat don't you?

Feet scuffling against the floor, fluffy socks dragging along the surface allowing you to quickly slip against the tiled floor. Your hips sway, a quiet hum leaving your lips as your hands move diligently, efficiently. Placing the pizza in the oven, setting the timer, flipping the switch on on the kettle.

Everything happens with practised ease. With movements that leave no room for error. Careful, efficient, the way your parents always taught you. The right way.

If you do everything correctly, things will never go wrong. You’ll never have to worry. When everything is in your control, everything is perfect and content.

It’s too bad the right way never accounts for things out of your control. When the world causes you to tense and get annoyed– when it doesn’t behave the way it's supposed to, like you want it to. Just like stupid shovels and a winter storm no one predicted.

But hey, at least you still have power. Your backup generator is there if you need it. Can still watch your dramas and eat warm food. Keep yourself sane while the insane persits just outside of your door.

Lonely, lonely, lonely winter storm~ whatever shall you do~

Your head begins to sing to itself while you wait. Maybe you already were going insa–

Bang.

What the fuck was that?

Your eyes instantly dart to the basement door wide with fear– the source of the sound.

A crash, a quiet cry, a scurry all sound in quick succession. Too loud to miss. Too loud to ignore. Too distinct to place on anything else.

You know winter noises. The crash of shutters against the window, the influx of snow on glass. The beating of hail against the roof or the creaking of pipes chilled from the cold. The noises you just heard? None of the above. They couldn’t possibly be. They weren’t. They were too… too…

Human.

Shit, shit. Is someone in your basement?! Oh god, oh fuck.

The room, it freezes over.

Your pulse starts to race– hairs raise, stand on end. Breath filtering through your nose as you start to panic. Fingers grip the countertop as you try to ground yourself. Try to figure out a way to escape this.

If horror movies have taught you anything– it’s how to run. Grab everything you can, high tail it out before you become victim to the unknown lurking just below the surface of your floorboards. Before you can be possessed or worse, chased down by some mass murdering clown.

That would be the smart thing to do– the wise thing. To get out of your house as quickly as possible, call the police to investigate it for you before you have to become the ‘final girl’ of a movie franchise of your own.

But the storm, the storm would never allow for the right thing.

The police would never make it in time, the roads far too hazardous to truly reach you. If they did, you would already have frostbite from the cold outside by the time they made it. You might be worse off than before–

At least, that’s what you tell yourself. The reasoning formulated in your head as you grab a broom from the closet, slowly make your way to the basement door. Completely ignoring the nagging feeling in your gut, the one that tells you that you actually want to travel down the stairs. A string tugging you along a path predetermined, forcing you to forego anything you had thought before.

No, your line of reasoning had to be the object pulling you down those stairs, creaking with every slow, nagging step that you take. It could never be curiosity, a want to understand the unknown guide leading you astray from the dirt road you’ve taken time and time again.

The right road that would lead to the right solution is all but forgotten in this moment. Only adrenaline spurring you on, fingers clenching and unclenching around the broom handle in your grip. Fingers tied so tight around the metal that your knuckles may as well be white.

You're terrified– scared out of your mind. The only noise passing through the drums of your ears is your own pulse, the accelerated beat of your heart as you try to clear the fog that dances over your brain. Fear must be clouding your judgement, making you follow it blindly into the light; well, dark.

Your breath leaps from your chest in short pants, eyes haphazardly harding around your form as you make it to the bottom of the stairs. Something is keeping your legs moving when all your brain wants to do is turn back and run. Call the authorities like you should be doing instead of risking everything to satiate the incessant need pulling at the back of your skull. Acting on instincts alone, allowing the string of fate to tug you around the corner. The urge to investigate is stronger than anything you had ever felt before. Anything you’ve ever wanted to feel before.

He sees you before you see him.

“P-please..” The quiet, almost non-existent voice sends a chill down your spine. One you were not expecting in the slightest.

Terrified, panicked. Shaking like a leaf, eyes welled with tears. It’s almost like he knew you were coming down all along, just… didn’t know what to do about it. Too scared to move, too scared to hide. Too scared to do anything but sit there and wait.

Just as petrified as you.

Nothing about the scene before you is making much sense at all. Not to you, at least. Why is he so scared? Why is he in your home? Why isn’t he doing anything but sitting there with pleading, helpless eyes? You try to take everything in, try to fit the pieces of the picture together.

Basement window opened slightly, just enough to allow the man— was he a man? To climb inside. Pretty blonde hair completely dishevelled on his head, grime coating what you know would be such pretty locks. Eyes with double pupils brimmed with tears threatening to spill at any second. Pink plush lips quivering with worry, fangs biting into them so hard you fear they may bleed. No, they are bleeding.

He is definitely not a man. Nor is he a beast. An intoxicating swirl of the two combined into a species of hybrid you’ve never seen before.

The first thought in your head is one it shouldn’t be. One that makes your heart stop for entirely different reasons than before. Makes you drop the broom in your hands, allowing it to fall to the ground with a clatter. Defences dropped completely in the face of the stranger before you.

He only flinches at the noise, blood covered hands reaching in panic to cover his all too sensitive ears.

Any worries have left you– something seeded deep within your soul tells you he isn’t a threat in the slightest. Not to you, at least. Never to you. Maybe it is the same string as before pulling you along. Pulling you to what destiny has provided.

He is absolutely gorgeous. Even with the grime and his pale complexion from the cold you can tell that easily. He might just be the prettiest thing you’ve ever seen, and you find lost in yourself what to do about it.

What is anyone meant to do when a drop dead gorgeous hybrid enters their home in the middle of a blizzard? Just as scared as you were moments before? Looking like he might freeze to death if you don’t–

Holy shit he must be frozen solid.

It’s only then that you come to your senses, your eyes racking over him once more as you take in all of him for more than just the beauty he brings.

His clothes are thin– far too thin for this weather at least. Tattered on the edges, few stains spotting the fabric, though its clear effort was spent trying to get them out. Your mind wants to wonder why he would worry about that, worry about making himself appear presentable, but raking your vision down you know there is no time for it. Not with the blood on his palms or the red of his flesh.

Your body moves quicker than your brain can think, crouching down in front of him. Noticing the way he flinches once more, the fear in his eyes more palpable, hurting worse than a gunshot wound.

The constriction of your chest is dumb, or at least it should be. Feels almost benign, unfounded. You just met him, you're scaring him, but for an unexplainable reason you wish you could take all of his worry away just for that moment. Make him feel a little better, a little warm. A little safe.

“It’s okay… it’s okay…” Your voice mumbles, trying to soothe him or yourself, you’re not entirely sure.

“I-I’m sorry… pl-please don’t.. It’s just so cold… Please…” He begs, though neither of you are sure what for. Not to hurt him, not to send him back outside. All you know is the tears that now flow from his eyes, cresting along his cheeks, dripping to the floor.

“Not going anywhere…” You hope your voice sounds stronger than you feel, hope he can’t hear the way the strings of your heart break, hope he hears how much you care in your tone all along, “Trust me a little okay…?”

You know your words mean nothing, that it might have been an impossible task for him to do so. But you had to try. Had to hope.

It should be hard for you to trust him too, it should be hard to rectify your fear in the face of the one who had caused it. It isn’t the right thing– none of this is the right thing, but it all just comes too easily. Compassion, caring takes over the anxiety too easily. Too brilliantly to do anything else other than care for this hybrid that has wound up at your door.

He was just a scared hybrid doing whatever he needed to to survive. Terrified out of his mind that he would freeze or starve out there– probably had no burrow or… you’re not sure, honestly, what his home might be like. But no home nevertheless. You could never just send another person out there to die.

He stiffens as you reach out for him, gently take his hands in your own. They feel like ice, frozen solid. You don't want to acknowledge what could have happened to them if he was out there any longer.

Without thinking you raise them to your lips, blowing on them as best you can. Trying to do anything to get the blood flowing again before you take him upstairs. Warm him up properly. Make him feel like more than a snowman once again.

You don’t notice the way his form completely loses all stress as you touch him for the first time, speak to him the first time. He feels transfixed on your voice– it had to be too sweet to be real. But you were too focused on your mission. Too focused on making sure the man who has broken into your home is okay to notice the way his lips part slightly at your tone.

You don’t notice the way his breath hitches, the way all of his hair stands on edge as a current runs through his body, breathing life into every pore he possesses. Nor the way his eyes widen, losing their will to cry as he stares at you.

Don’t notice the recognition on his face.

You don’t notice a lot of things he does that day. Too focused on getting him into a warm shower– one he was very confused by, you might add. Too focused on getting a warm meal in his belly. Too focused on getting him in nice, clean clothes. A set that will properly keep him warm.

You could worry about other things later. But this felt right. This felt like something you were always meant to do. Or maybe that was just the size of your heart talking– you could never be too sure. But you liked to think it was the former. Liked to hope that Jimin, who you later learned was a spider hybrid, was always meant to come tumbling through your window, into your life for good.

The days that follow are easy– falling into a rhythm with him, taking care of him is just too simple. As basic as breathing, maybe.

Though, it hasn’t exactly been hard with how much he sleeps. How deep he’s nestled in your bed, blankets piled on top of him to drown out any chills that may attempt to slip into his bones. It’s almost like hibernation– if you could describe it. Re-building his energy, making himself feel strong again before he faces the world.

You can’t blame him, honestly. Not after everything he’s been through. Only god knows how long he had been out there. How long he had to brave the snowstorm, the cold weather that previewed it as well. You would probably do the same thing. Hide yourself from everything that hurt you.

Most days you wish you could be doing the exact same thing as him. Hide under a pile of blankets and forget the rest of the world exists. But the voice of your parents would always nag you out of it, force you to be human with the rest of society because it's the right thing.

You humph, gently placing a plate of food on the bedside table. Let him occupy your room for as long as he needs, preparing meals for him even though he never touches a bit of it. It’s the least you can do with his condition.

You don’t think you’ve ever wanted to stop someone's pain so badly. You hope you can by just doing small things like this. You sigh, heading for the door once again. Another day on the couch.

“Human…?” His voice is quiet, almost non-existent as he calls for you. Cracking slightly, the first time he's spoken in days.

You quickly turn to face him and almost want to fall to your knees at the sight. Fluffy blonde hair peeking from just below the covers, doll eyes peering at you while the rest of him stays hidden beneath the surface. Does he know how destructive he is?

Wait, no. Now isn’t the time to be thinking about this. He’s letting his defences down, actually talking to you. Stop it.

“Hmm?” You gently call back, glued to your spot in the doorway. You don’t know what he would do if you moved, how startled he may be because of it. You want to talk to him– to find answers.

“What time is it…?” He slowly asks, pacing his question. You notice a slight lisp behind his words– how much of an effort he puts to cover it up.

“Mmm.. about 1? I made myself some lunch so I was just stopping by.” You explain, trying to justify your presence in the room.

“Oh.” He looks beneath the blankets, eyes darting around the room, “Okay. Thank you.”

It seems neither of you are great conversationalists, awkward air passing between the space left between your bodies. You don’t blame him. You don’t know what you would be thinking, feeling if you were in the same place as him. If you didn’t really know what your fate was going to be.

“How are you feeling?” You ask quietly, playing with your fingers to distract from the nerves that you feel. As much as you want to jump, pin him down and ask every single thing your heart begs for, you know that isn't the right thing to do. You know you should be slow, careful with this. At least, that's what the articles online have told you.

“Better…” His voice comes out smoother this time, finally coming out of sleep as he sits up in the bed. Gently taking the plate into his lap, scrunching his nose. “It’s not cold in here like out there.”

You can’t help but smile to yourself. He seems so relaxed, so at ease. Not scared in the slightest of you or what you may do. You forget all about the fact that you should probably be scared of him too.

“Not really,” You smile gently, eyes glancing at the window as he starts to eat, “I was really worried about you, scared me bad.”

You don’t see the flush that covers his cheeks.

“I-I’m really sorry, I didn’t mean to… your window was the first one I could get through and I knew I couldn’t take the storm anymore so I–”

“Hey, It’s fine.” You turn your attention back to him, “I’m just glad you’re okay, yeah? It must’ve been terrifying out there.”

“It was.” He doesn’t hesitate in answering in the slightest, eyes serious as they focus on you. They’re beautiful, really. His eyes.

“I’m sorry…”

He shakes his head, “Not your fault human, I left the reserve. My fault.” He tells you in earnest, wanting you to believe it with every piece of your soul that you could never do anything to hurt him, “Come sit?”

The question is quiet, but you oblige nonetheless. Legs moving you slowly, perching at the end of the bed to face him. Kicking your legs slightly as you stare at the pattern of your sweats.

“The reserve?” You ask, turning slightly to face him. His face is suddenly smiling, nodding at your question. He must like the place a lot, see it as home for him to become so excited.

“Yeah! Where I live,” He explains, continuing to shovel food into his mouth as he speaks, “They say humans can't hurt you there, you get to hunt like in the wild too.”

He hums, content in talking about the one place he has ever found comfort in, found friends in. You can’t help but smile as he speaks, too.

“Yeah? It sounds really nice.” He’s nodding his head once again, as quickly as he can.

“There are lots of other arthropods to play with there. Lot’s of food. Sometimes the humans that visit will give you some too, but they’re normally scared of me.” He suddenly looks serious, eyes coming to meet yours once again, “You’re not scared of me, right?”

You jerk your head back, brows furrowing together in confusion. How could someone be scared of someone like Jimin? You’ve only known him for a matter of days and you doubt that you could ever be.

“Of course not.” You tell him, gently reaching a hand over to place on his knee. He doesn’t flinch away like you expect him to. “You just needed some help, we all need help sometimes.”

He smiles, the serious demeanour retracting from his face in an instant. Back to smiling down at his food happily. The silence doesn’t feel as awkward anymore, at least you don't think it does. It makes you happy, stretching on as he continues to eat like a man starved. He probably is, days of not eating and only sleeping.

“Why did you leave it?” You tilt your head, staring out the window once more. Few snowflakes trickle against the blue sky, “I mean, you don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to. But I figure if we’re going to be together through the storm–”

“You’re not gonna kick me out?” His face is awestruck, fork dropping to the plate in surprise. What is he talking about? Kick him out? In this weather?

You quickly shake your head, hand slowly pulling itself back from your knee. He whines in protest, quickly trying to force himself back under your heat. The touch of your hand warmed him up more than anything else in this room– more than the blankets, more than the heater or the warm towels.

His hand tangles itself with your own, pulls you back to his covered knee. Keeps your hand in place with his own while he uses the other to eat. Good. This is better. He likes it when you touch him. The way your small hand feels wrapped in his own.

Makes the tips of his fingers tingle, warmth spread throughout his skin. This is right. This is good.

“Why would I kick you out?” You ask in disbelief, either unnoticing or uncaring to the way he holds your hand– he’s unsure. Not that it matters much! “It’s too cold for anyone out there. I wouldn’t want anything bad to happen to you.”

He smiles, the pit of his stomach only warming more at your words, “Good.”

“We have to wait for the snow to melt to drive you ba–” He cuts you off once again, not wanting to think about going back. At least not without you.

“My friend Taehyung leaves a lot,” He begins to explain, fingers squeezing your own as his palm lays heavy against the back of your hand, “He always talks about how fun it is. All the cool things he gets to see, you know?”

He places his plate to the side while he talks, licking one of his fangs gently. You don’t want to think about how handsome he looks while he does such an action.

“So I wanted to try it out, but we’re not really supposed to leave, you know? ‘Cause then we’re not protected.” You nod along, “And I don’t really have wings to fly out so… I had to wait until they weren’t really paying attention.”

“And that just happened to line up right before the snowstorm was supposed to hit.” You finish for him and he nods, looking down at his lap, “That has gotta be such shitty luck, Jimin. I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay.”

“It’s really not, you just wanted to go out and experience new things and you almost ended up dead.” You frown at him, trying to get the man to understand the gravity of what may have happened. He simply shakes his head, plush lips tilted into a small smile just for you.

“I said it’s okay.” He tries to make you believe it, leaning closer. Feeling nothing like the stranger he was only days before. “I got to meet you, so it was all worth it.”

Mate. Mate. Mate.

Jimin has a mate that he’s going to be with someday. Someone he’s going to fall in love with. Someone he’s meant to be with, be happy with for the rest of his life. Someone that isn’t you. You really need to accept that and move on from this stupid fucking crush you’ve developed. One that will amount to nothing but heartbreak.

All hybrids have them– Jimin is not excluded from that. You know it’s true. Know it’s so true that you can hardly breathe but he just makes it so easy, too fucking easy to fall for him.

He takes care of the house, cleans it for you whenever there is a mess. Does the dishes after dinner. Takes out the trash. Tells the spiders in the yard not to mess with you– okay, you’re not entirely sure he does that last one. But he is adamant he can speak to them, and who are you to rain on his little spidey parade.

As the seasons change and the months pass, he only makes it easier and easier. Fitting into your life like he was the only piece missing. Filling in all of the bits and pieces you never knew you needed, wrapping silk around your heart and pulling it tight before you could ever think about letting him go.

Even as the months heat and his deep blue roots grow out from his bleached hair, he has no desire to the place he once called home. The reserve quickly pushed aside every time you try to bring it up. Saying he likes it better here, that this is now his home.

To be honest, nothing makes you more happy. Nothing in the world could possibly make you feel better than Jimin. His little webs he places in the corners, the soft way he clings to you when he becomes needy, the way he likes to show you any bugs he catches before he eats them. You’re not sure you could continue in your life without it.

Yet still, still. You’re not sure if this is right. The right thing, the right way to go about it all.

You often fear that you’re keeping him from what he really wants, if he actually wants to go back but feels indebted to you in some way. If that’s the only reason he actually sticks around.

You worry you’re being selfish in that regard. And then once again you find yourself spiralling into the void of questions you could never have answered. Feelings that will always be unaccounted for because Jimin has a mate.

Or at least, will have one. Someday. And you’re not sure if you could handle that day coming. Not in the warm heat of spring, flowers blooming alongside feelings for an arachnid that has entered your life.

One that has no intention of leaving your side anytime soon, if he has anything to say about it.

But nothing, nothing in the world could prepare you for this. What could prepare the thrum of your heart or the butterflies in your tummy? You never expected him to hold you this close, keep your body pressed against his own in the small space of the coat closet. Keep his face tucked away in your neck, whining in pain at something you could never think to discern.

So quickly you were pulled away, without a second to waste you were dragged onto his lap. One second kicking off your shoes, covered in mud from gardening, the next a hand wrapped around your wrist, pulling you into the dark confines. Only Jimin there to cover up your scream, lips delicately pressed to your ear uttering a quiet please. Voiced laced with a whine so pained you couldn’t help but join him without a second to spare.

A thought to think– a debate on whether this is right to do or not, for yourself and your own heart.

“Min? Min, what’s wrong?” It’s the only thing you can think to ask, pulling him away from your neck, making his head face your own. Hands gently cupping either cheek as your eyes attempt to make out the features of his face.

It’s too dark, you can’t see anything. The only answer he gives is in the form of a pained groan, not even his eyes reaching you through the darkness. You start to panic, feel the nerves along your spine light up in trepidation.

He’s hurt. He has to be. What happened? Is he okay? He’s never acted like this before. Not with you. Never before has he seemed so hurt, so dishevelled save for the night you first met him.

Just before this the two of you were gardening, mid-morning sun shining bright overhead. A light breeze passing through the trees keeping the two of you cool. That was it! He only went inside a few minutes before you, a few minutes alone and he was already hurt this bad.

Oh god, you never want him to hurt. To be in pain. It hurts your heart just as bad as it hurts him, if not worse.

You’ve fallen a lot farther than you thought.

“Min, let me just turn on the lights okay? Let me see what’s wrong.” You try to coax him, try to kneel from his lap to reach the string above you. Panic flooding through you as he keeps you snug, keeps you from helping him.

You stop your struggle, veins running cold as he lets out a sharp, violent hiss. A sound he’s never made before, never dare uttered towards you– around you in general. It leaves you nervous, scared for entirely different reasons than before.

But one thing is clear from the way his fingers dig into the skin of your wrist almost painfully. The same wrist that was reaching for the string. He doesn’t want you to turn on the light.

“Okay…okay I won’t…” You tell the arachnid, slowly lowering yourself back onto his lap. Letting go of the struggle, letting go of the resistance. It isn’t what he needs right now, isn’t what he wants.

His grip loosens, arms returning to their place around your waist. Holding you close. Keeping you in his arms. His face nuzzles back into your neck, inhaling deeply with every breath he takes. Smelling you. Imprinting the memory of it in his brain.

“What if I use my flashlight…? Would that be okay?” Once again, the response is a much short, quieter hiss. A lot less defensive, angry than the first. Just a sign of dismissal.

“Okay…” You say quietly, bringing one arm behind him to gently run through his hair. Scratching his scalp in a way that always has him preening, “Can you please tell me what's wrong? So I can help…? Please…”

Your voice is quiet, almost a beg as you ask him. He squeezes your body tighter in response. Would’ve basked in the tone you gave him if not for the pounding behind his eyelids. Still, he knows if he’s going to get you to stay, he has to talk. No matter how much it hurts.

A whine leaves his lips, nose running along the column of your neck as he tries to scent you, “Hurts.”

He answered, his voice shaky and quiet, but it gives you nothing.

“I know Min, I know…” You hush quietly, trying to consol something that you do not have the answer to. Your other hand slowly starts to soothe up and down his back, trying to relax the poor boy enough to speak.

“The light. Hurt eyes. Head Hurts.” He gruffs out, burying his face into your skin to block out any other source that he could.

Your lips part in a soft ‘o’ as the picture becomes clear to you. Staying outside too long, helping you in the garden had come at a cost to the poor spider in the form of a splitting headache.

How could you have been so dumb to let him help you? The articles you’ve read, the pieces you’ve tried to put together to understand the man in your life– they told you as much. How delicate some species' eyes could be but… Jimin never seemed to have that issue before. Never mentioned it, anyway. He doesn’t mention a lot about himself.

You frown.

“Min, I’m so sorry…”

He only grumbles in reply, blunt nails digging into the back of your shirt to keep himself grounded. To keep his head from pounding any louder.

“Let me– Let me go get you some Ibuprofen, yeah?” You hope the sound of your voice isn’t making everything worse. If it does, he doesn’t say anything, only shaking his head, burrowing it further under your hair.

“Just… stay.” He sighs in defeat, shoulders relaxing as he holds you close. He doesn’t need medicine. He doesn’t need anything else. He just needs you. Why can’t you understand that?

“I’ll–” You breathe, trying to force the flush of your cheeks to disappear. He can see in the dark, you know that much. You wouldn’t want him seeing this. The effect he has over you. Doesn’t he know how dangerous he is?

“I’ll stay.”You sigh in defeat, unaware to the pride that blooms in his chest at the battle won. The quiet chirp from his throat that he has you here, with him. Where you’re meant to be.

Hours pass just like that, just the two of you wrapped in each other's arms. No words spoken but quiet requests to know the other is okay. That the other is safe. Even as your muscles begin to cramp, bones start to become sore you don’t dare to move. Don’t dare to do a thing when you are the only one that matters to him right now.

Jimin makes it so easy to pretend.

Especially as his migraine begins to lift, as the conversation between two souls becomes more frequent. As he moves your body to the side so your head can rest against his chest. As his fingers smoothe over the skin of your thigh, rubbing gentle, comforting circles into your flesh.

“And then Namjoon, you know how bad a flyer he is, ran straight into the director of the park. Made her spill her whole coffee all over.” He smiles to himself as he tells the story of the bee hybrid, eyes heavy as he looks down at your form. So cute and small, “and you know what he said?”

You shake your head, “what?”

“‘You need some honey?’” He recites, dipping his voice in a deeper octave to mimic what you can only assume to be Namjoon’s. His voice falling into quiet giggles, you quickly follow suit. Laughing at stories of friends, feeling at home in the dark closet.

You don’t care how long the two of you have been in there. Only that he isn’t in pain anymore.

“I’m glad you’re okay now.” You tell him, eyes feeling heavy, the soothing tremor of his voice vibrating in his chest making your head start to fog. Inklings of sleep slipping into your frame. Head lulling back against him, looking up at him with sleepy eyes.

He nods, his throat constricting at just how perfect you look there, fingers teetering on the brink of digging into your skin once more. “Feeling a lot better… my vision is still a little spotty but it's okay.”

You pout. He has to hold back a coo. Too cute. Do you even know how cute you are when you get like this? Probably not.

“No, it’s not okay. I should have known. Told you to go back inside so you don’t get hurt. I don’t like it when you get hurt.”

His heart pounds once, twice before he releases a shaky exhale. Do you know what you do to him when you talk like that? When you show him just how much you care?

The level of restraint he has, it has to be impressive. If he was Taehyung, he would have taken you right there. Wrapped your arms in webs so you couldn’t move. Mate you without a second thought.

Seriously, what did you think you were doing? Talking to him like that? Making him feel like he’s going insane, a few short strings from breaking free and just taking you to his nest. Keeping you there.

You can’t say things like that to him. Not with how innocent you look, with how terribly he already wants you.

A harsh breath comes out of his nose as he forces the thoughts away. He’s not Taehyung. He’s not going to take you for his own selfish desires alone. No, he’s going to keep lulling you into his web like he knows you want. Knows you need. Keep being a good little spider for you.

“I should have told you.” He says quietly, lips coming down to place a gentle kiss on your forehead, “Couldn’t have known my species is sensitive like that.”

You hum in quiet annoyance, “Still… read online about some glasses that can help some insects manage light… should have bought them.”

A courting gift? No no, you don’t know what that is. No matter what his spider screams he knows that isn’t true.

He sighs, he needs a distraction. Something to calm the voice in his head screaming at him to kiss you.

Your leg kicks out gently as he starts, feeling like nothing but a feather tickling across your skin. Gentle silks laying across the surface from his wrists, spinnerets hard at work to produce the webbing he places on your thigh.

He huffs quietly, a smirk of a laugh coming out as he moves your leg back, “Tickles?” He asks, an amused lilt present in his voice. Oh god, he’s going to start teasing you again. He loves teasing you.

“What are you doing?” You ask quietly, eyes glancing down to where his fingers move expertly. Thread after thread moving through his fingers, decorating your skin as he draws pictures. Paints flowers, sunsets, anything he can think of really across the canvas of your thigh.

“Just drawing… calms me down.” Marking you, claiming you. Showing every other arthropod that this one is his, this one is Jimins’. Well, at least for the next 3 days when the stick wears off. “Do you want me to stop?”

A tingle runs through your spine as he works, eyes not able to leave his hands for even a second. Your stomach swarms with what has to be a hive of bees, your core bubbling with something you don’t want to describe or think about.

You just hope he can’t smell you. Can’t hear the race of your heart, the increase in breath. The flush on your cheeks that travels all the way to your ears.

He can.

“N-no… It’s okay. I want you to feel better so… do what you need to do.” You mumble, trying to get your feelings to calm down before you fully lose it.

You have to buy those glasses.

Being a spider is just too difficult!

At least that’s what Jimin has told you time and time again over the past 8 months you’ve spent with him. Cold, icy months blossoming into the summer heat with him by your side. With him making residence in your home, cementing his place in your life without any regards for going back to his original home.

It’s too hard for him out there anyway! People at the park think you’re scary so they won’t give you any snacks, security removes your webs when they become too prominent around the landscape. Something about having to “give other spiders a chance” and them “taking up too much space.”

Can you believe them?! All the time and effort he put into his pretty webs, gone in a flash! The strain the sun caused his eyes, the pounding headaches he endured stringing up pieces of silk along the trees, creating a beautiful orchestra of white to claim his territory.

Thank god he doesn’t have to deal with that anymore, at least. Ever since you bought him those sunglasses, making webs outside has never been easier. Catching prey so much easier than ever before.

You don’t think you’ll ever get used to the sight of him eating the bugs he catches, but who are you to yuck his yum? You know all of the things he’s had to endure as a spider. Everything he’s convinced the world hates him for simply based on his breed alone. The least you can do is show kindness around his diet.

That’s how you end up rubbing his back in soothing circles time and time again, fangs piercing a stuffed animal or piece of fruit– anything he can get his hands on really, as he whines, flinches as he spits out all of his venom.

His venom is one of the worst things he’s had to deal with, you’ve learned. It builds up behind his teeth, waiting to be used on a waiting victim when there is no such thing. No exit point for the liquid to flow.

His fangs begin to ache, begging to pierce something just to release all of the pent up tension in his gums. It hurts too bad, too much to just keep it inside. So once a month, you find yourself in the same position, trying to help him relieve the aggression with soothing, gentle words as he spits the venom out in a way you can only imagine is unsatisfying. Leaving his fangs sensitive and achy for days to come.

In general, his fangs seem to be a point of special contention within the hybrid. They’re too pointy, cause too many issues. The extended canines digging into his plush lower lip just a little too hard making every movement just a little too uncomfortable. God, and he has to worry about brushing them to perfection– keep them pretty for his mate.

At least, that’s what he tells you.

The rest of the world hurts him. You don’t.

Today especially. At least that's what you can assume by the stretch of his arms, the whine bubbling from the back of his throat. His arms reaching for your form, beckoning you, calling you to join him on the couch. All worked up, acting like a wounded puppy that needs nursing just to get your attention.

It always works. Always will.

Some would say he’s become more pushy— more desperate for your attention, forcing it from your grasp without realizing it yourself. That’s what your friends have told you. How easily you fit into the palm of his hand with no more than a simple gesture coaxing you forward into his sweet embrace, never noticing the glares he sends others who enter your home.

No, you would deny all of it. Listen when he tells you that you don’t need your friends anyway. It just feels so good to be needed by him, wanted by him in a way you can never have him. In whatever way he’s willing to give.

r weakness than ever before. No matter how much you’ve tried to avoid it, how much you’ve tried to do the right thing and shove the stupid, pesky feelings down, he’s managed to twist himself into the confines of your heart. Filling a deep hole inside with his pretty silks and crooked little teeth. Takes up a lot more space then you’d ever be willing to admit. Not to him, anyway. Not when he could find his mate any day now.

You’ve been thinking about it more and more lately– the prospect of his mate. It’s difficult not to when he treats you so kindly. When he creeps in your bed at night to cold you, when he reaches out for your comfort alone. When he graces your neck with his fangs his lips–

You drop the dishes back in the sink, shoving your thoughts back into the deep dark recesses of your mind. Maybe if you can be his comfort for now, that will be enough. Even if it isn’t right.

Maybe that’s just how far you’ve fallen, how much he’s tangled you in his embrace. Not that it matters much, you smile all the same. Abandoning your task on only his third whine and fourth dramatic roll of the night. Giving in is so easy when it’s him.

But! It’s a new record for how long you’ve held out! Even got two stomps out of him. You should be proud of yourself.

Maybe you are, though it's for different reasons entirely as Jimin grabs at your wrists, pulling you down beside him. Nudging his face into the crook of your neck with a quiet, pained whine.

You like to ignore those other reasons. They’ll only hurt more if you face them head on. But it's hard to, so hard when he’s this close. When he’s holding you like you may just be the very thing from shattering his world apart.

Or maybe you’re over thinking things.

Yeah. It’s probably that.

“Y/n…” You feel his lips ghost your neck as he whines, wiggling slightly in discomfort.

His duality is always impressive, has been making your brain go a little haywire since he first moved in, since he became more comfortable in your presence. Letting you see him for what he really is. Always playing so cute, so pliant when he needs something– attention, food, for you to just give in and give him what he wants.

Other times he acts as if he could be the reincarnation of Arachne herself. Beautiful, deceptive. Terrifyingly aware of how attractive he is to the human eye. You think he does it on purpose. Likes to see your head spin as you try to keep up with which apparition of Jimin you will experience that day.

He doesn’t know how dangerous it can be, especially for you. How easy it can be to believe that it's real and not just the flirt of his personality. At least you have cute Jimin for now. It’s a little easier to manage.

“You okay Minnie? Something happen?” Your arm reaches up for where he clings to it, fingers gently petting through his fluffy blonde hair. The action seems to soothe him, make him almost pur from the feeling of your fingers alone. Make him feel the slightest bit better from whatever might be irritating him.

He forces his wrists onto your lap, nuzzles his face further into your neck. Inhale all the scents you have to offer. Let you see the issue of spiders.

The tiny holes of his spinnerets come into view, red and inflamed. Shit. They have to be hurting. The skin jutting out slightly more than it should be. Pretty strings of silk hanging in a messy manner. Clogged glands always hurt. Always make for issues.

You frown at the sight, delicately taking his wrist into your hand, looking at it closer. No, not too bad you have to take him to the doctor… you can handle it fine. But it won’t feel good, it never does. Dummy must’ve gotten too excited while webbing up the basement again, got his poor spinnerets working too hard. Overproducing silk to the point it has nowhere to go.

“Min!” You whine, already grabbing a pair of tweezers from the side-table– you’ve learned it’s always good to have a pair on-hand. “I told you that you gotta be more careful!”

“I know!” He hisses almost pathetically, “Just got ahead of myself!”

His voice is no more than a grumble, turning his head away from you yet not pulling away in the slightest. Pretending he hates when you scold him, when you show just how much you care about him.

You pretend it isn’t cute in much the same way.

“Always end up getting ahead of yourself,” You sigh dramatically, acting as if having to take care of the arachnid bothers you more than it actually does. Truth be told, you don’t care in the slightest. Who knows, maybe it even makes you preen in delight.

Feeling wanted as your fingers try to be as gentle as possible while removing the silk. Pulling out the little pieces strand by strand, work out the knot it's made under the skin to try and bring him some relief.

Though, no matter how careful you may be, he still flinches in pain all the same. Trying to cover it up like it was nothing, like every poke and prod doesn’t hurt. Like he can be tough under your gentle hands and pained gaze. He knows it has to be done and no matter how much you hate to see him in pain, you do too.

The dull ache will grow worse and worse, could even turn into an infection if you don't handle it as fast as possible. Worst case? He may have to have his spinnerets removed completely. A fate that feels worse than death to a spider hybrid– or so you’ve read at least.

Soon after he came into your life you did everything in your power to learn as much about his species as possible. Scoured webpage upon webpage, blog post on blog post, youtube video after youtube video. Even went down the sticky threads of a reddit rabbithole to try and learn everything about him.

The only thing you found: how horrible arthropod hybrids are treated in your society. Either sold at auction for absurd prices or cast aside completely depending on how “inhuman” they look. How they are used as tools to show wealth or are discarded from the rest of the world completely. The notion alone had pissed you off to no end.

Jimin was a member of the latter group– or at least that’s what you assumed. From behind no one would be able to tell he was any less than human. His lack of multiple limbs or fluttering wings left him to the devices of the reserve. Probably cast aside, dropped off by the people that raised him for not providing anything that went along with their definition of ‘value’.

Your eyes pinch into a quiet glare. They’re just fucking stupid. Anyone could see that Jimin is perfect. Anyone could see that he did not deserve the treatment he's received, nor deserved to be in the state he was in when you first found him.

And while you’re glad he didn’t end up with anyone else, still didn’t end up in an auction house like many others had, you hate them for thinking they could define his value. That they could define him for more than what he lacked. He still has beautiful fangs. Still has beautiful eyes and his natural cobalt-blue hair. He is still perfect to you.

A sharp hiss leaves his lips, arm attempting to jerk back from your hold as your grip tightens just a hair too hard. As you accidentally tug on a far too sensitive part of the knot. Getting a little too lost in your head while your fingers pick away diligently. Trying to ease the pain as fast as you can.

“Human!” He whines, quickly shushed by a flurry of apologies leaving your mouth. Face flushed, panic in your eyes as he admonishes you.

Once again you’re reminded all too well of how far you’ve fallen for him. Heart racing, brain yelling at itself for hurting him.

It’s dumb, you know that. Everything about the schoolgirl crush you’ve formed on him is. But it doesn’t stop the frown on your lips, the gentle rub of your fingers into his skin as you try to make it up to him.

A quiet grumble leaves his lips, heart hurting at the little dejected expression you wear. He forgives better than he forgets, moving his arms back to the pillow propped on your lap, allowing you to continue your work.

A pout stays on his lips as he watches your hands move. Watches the way the tweezers move under the thin layer of skin. Watches the way you move softer now, taking your time with him. Trying your utmost to not hurt him again.

To you it feels far too intimate. To him, it leaves him almost feral.

“Been working really hard on them lately, haven’t you?” Your voice sounds, trying to distract him or yourself from wandering thoughts– you’re not sure. He’s almost clean– almost all better so you can stop playing nurse. Get a warm washcloth to soothe the skin, take away any ache that lasts from the overused glands.

He nods, “Autumn is coming up…” He mumbles, the words leaving his lips in almost a shy fashion. Like it’s a secret that isn’t a secret at all in the coy fashion he knows you adore.

He knows all too well all of the things that make your stomach flutter. Listens to your heart beat like it’s his favourite song, the flush of your cheeks his favourite painting. Every little twitch of your lip or tap of your feet he catches with ease. You are his favourite everything.

You’ve become far more interesting than any book, far more gorgeous than any actress. Learned to read you better than yourself.But he supposes that would happen to any hybrid who had to wait as long as him, endure as much as he has.

Humans are tricky things, you know? You have to wait and wait and wait just for them to finally give into what they really want. Play the long game to win a prize at the end like he wants, deserves.

He’ll win it soon. August.

“Mmm? Having a contest with the house spiders or something?” You giggle, an effort to try and keep the atmosphere as light as possible. Try to distract from any pain he may be feeling at the moment.

Jimin is convinced he can speak to them– the house spiders that you allow to stay in the corners of your house. Another one of Jimin’s pitfalls that you couldn’t help but wonder into. He claims that they’re his friends, that he talks to them all the time. You, on the other hand, are unconvinced. They probably just use him for food!

“How did you know?! Who told you!” He gasps in mock surprise, head dipping low to rest on your shoulder before he continues, “No, not this time…they all know I would win anyway.”

“I know you would,” He doesn’t allow you in the basement to look at them, at least he hasn’t in the last month, but you’ve seen plenty strung around the house. Dotted in the corners of each room, his way of claiming territory. “You’ve always got such pretty silk.”

His face flushes– he knows you can’t see it. It’s good if you don’t, better if you have no clue how much your words affect him. Exactly how much those words mean to him.

Hopefully you will soon enough. Hopefully, if things go according to plan, you’ll know a lot of things. But right now you just need to stay a little clueless. Just for a little longer.

That’s what he promises to himself.

“What’s happening in autumn then?” You ask, finally pulling the last bit of silk from his left wrist. Both finally clean, finally working like they should be.

Taking each wrist into one of your hands, your thumbs find the openings to the spinnerets. Fingers rubbing gentle, soothing circles into the flesh. Your version of a little makeshift massage. One that always causes him to fall apart under. Spine slumping, mouth parting slightly as he watches your fingers work. His brain going a little empty along with the soothing motion of your fingertips.

Another thing that you don’t understand the intimacy of. The extent of what your touch means to him. How terribly it makes him want to bite you.

His voice is a pitch lower than before. You can’t help but notice the way his breath stutters in his throat at the gentle movement of your thumbs. The way his pupils expand ever so slightly. The way he leans into your touch, avoids eye contact at all costs.

You can’t help the blush that dusts your cheeks, the flutter of your ribcage. The way you keep going just because you know it’s making him feel good.

Stop it! You’re thinking in a bad way again! It isn't right! It’s just from the massage, the relief after his spinnerets are cleared! God, you can’t think about him like this. Can’t do this to yourself! Calm down, seriously. None of this is a big deal.

You know he can hear fast your heart is beating regardless of the argument going on inside of your brain.

“Autumn is mating season.” Your thumbs stutter.

Oh. That is something all of the articles definitely neglected to tell you. They didn’t tell you anything about… that aspect of spiders. Not that they explained much to begin with but certainly nothing about breeding.

You can’t help the way your grip tightens, trying to find purchase– stability at the revelation. Heart thrumming in your chest faster, more aggravated than before. The chill that travels down your spine with the hum of his voice so close to your ear.

Can’t help the sinch of jealousy that finds you either.

Fuck, you hate that he’s smirking– without even looking at his face you can tell! You know he can hear the exact pitter-patter of your heart, any little sound or smell you let out he can easily pick up. Knows your exact emotions before you know them yourself.

“Ah… I see.” This topic really shouldn’t make you so embarrassed! Pull yourself together!

You know that all hybrids have a cycle they go through. Heats, ruts, anything in between. You knew that when Jimin came into your life he would be the same! Knew there would be a time when he’d have to lock himself in the basement, body flooded with hormones. The pretty sounds you’d have to block out filling the house.

But still, because it’s him, you can’t help the nerves that arise from your core. The realisation that it would be coming sometime soon.

If you’re going to make it through you’d have to invest in some soundproof headphones. For your own sanity.

“Mmm?” He smiles, voice sweet and saccharine. Away with the pain of existing also left cute Jimin, leaving a deadly predator in its wake. One that likes to taunt and tease you while acting as innocent as an angel.

Leaves your brain confused, floundering trying to keep up with his deceptively sweet tongue. Doing it all just to get a cute little reaction out of you.

Guess he picked up on the exact little whirlwind of your mind, “You’re so cute when you’re embarrassed…”

“Shut up!” You whine, trying to stand from the couch so you can retrieve a washcloth. Try to avoid the way your heart is going to pound out of your chest, the way you know you’ll fall farther into his clutches.

His arms lock on firm, face nuzzling into the crook of your neck to rub his cheeks against your skin. Scent you just like he does a million times a day claiming that it's necessary. Spiders smell so much less than other hybrids– he has to do it or else.

Or at least that’s what he says– you think that it’s another lie.

“What!” He laughs, “Not like I’m saying anything dirty, it’s only natural.” He chides, sliding back against the couch, pulling you into his side with ease. Slotting you in like you’re meant to fit there, not whatever mate he meets in the future.

Your brain yells at itself. You know how dangerous that line of thinking is.

“Unless you want me to be dirty? I could if I wanted, you know.” He smiles as innocently as a wolf, fangs oozing with confidence behind them.

“Oh my god!” You sigh dramatically, putting on the front you always do when your heart feels like it may just explode. When you feel like digging an early grave because Jimin knows exactly what he’s doing.

You simply roll your eyes, “And I could punch you in the dick if I wanted to, you know?”

His laugh is always so pretty, boisterous yet still as light as air. Head tilting back, his neck on display as he chastises you for the empty threat. One you both know won’t come true, at least not right now.

He smiles, a gentle kiss being placed on your forehead as he urges you to stay. Promising he’ll be a ‘good little spider’ so you don’t have to worry about him. The implication of snacks and movies making you stay. The way he pouts when you tell him you’re not buying anymore BugBitez™ until the end of the week confirming that this is where you need to be right now. That it’s right.

It’s almost too easy for him too. Everything is too easy for you when it comes to Jimin. He claims the exact same.

Or at least, that’s what he mumbles in your ear now. Arms wrapped around you as tight as he can manage. Movie nearing its end with Jimin on the cusp of consciousness, you having lost the plot of it a long time ago.

Something about Aliens? Cowboys? Mothman? You couldn’t even hope to guess. Not when his breath is in your ear.

It’s hard to focus when he’s so close like this. When he’s saying pretty words that could get you lost in your fantasy over and over again. Making him harder and harder to give him up every moment that passes you by.

“Got lucky with my human.” He mumbles, half asleep, face buried in your hair, “Really good human.”

His lips move so lazily when they speak. Fangs running across the surface your skin like they have a mind of their own. Never daring to pierce the surface. Never daring to bite you for real. No matter how bad he really, really wants to.

How bad he wants to mate you. Make you his pliant little prey– see if the rumours about what his venom does to humans is real.

Your breath stutters but you pay it no mind. Trying, begging your eyes to remain focused on the movie. To ignore how deceptive sleepy Jimin is. Tomorrow, he will act as normal. His words will carry no weight.

He isn’t your boyfriend. You aren’t his mate. You two are just friends sharing a house.

Feelings you have no right to have are forced down over and over again. It seems like it's become a daily occurrence– a pattern of habit you have no hope in breaking. The love piling behind your eyelids means nothing when the person he is meant to be with could be around any corner.

But it’s getting harder. Too hard to hold them back and restrain yourself. Especially on nights like this when it feels like fate that the two of you met.

Thinking back on that fateful day now, all of those months ago, you’re sure it had to have been. Maybe the winter gods (if such a thing existed) decided to shine their light on you; to make the blizzard a little less lonely. Make your life filled with long days and even longer nights just a little bit brighter.

Or maybe they hated you and wanted you to suffer.

Wanted you to live a life knowing your affections will never be reciprocated, knowing that Jimin has a fated one out there somewhere just waiting for him. Knowing that it isn’t you. Cursing you to a life of watching Jimin fall for another.

Thinking becomes so hard when it’s about Jimin. When it’s about the man who made you so far into the pits of hell that you don’t think you’ll ever crawl out.

So instead your fingers simply squeeze his hand. Rub gentle, soothing circles into the skin. Care for him like you’re meant to instead of thinking about what the future may hold. What will happen when he does find his mate. What they might be like, what they might dress like, if they’ll have to move in here, if you’ll have to watch him fall in love over and over again every single day.

You think you might hate them.

You sigh.

No, that wouldn’t be fair. Could never be fair to Min. He deserves happiness. He deserves the world whether or not you’re a part of it.

You hope he isn’t able to pick up on the changes in your scent.

“Mmm mm, got lucky with you Min.”

August 11th.

A beautiful dream shattered by the incoherent nightmare that is your spider pacing around your room. A pillow pulled to either side of your head, doing everything in their power to drown out the noise as an audible groan leaves your lips. His nervous prattling too early in the morning for your liking.

Any other day it would be fine, you would think that it’s cute. The way he worries his lip between his teeth. The way he gently bites down on the pad of his thumb, one arm crossed while the other soothes the skin of his chin.

Any other day you’d sit in bed, listen to him. Mock him slightly with how much worry runs through his body.

But he isn’t talking about his mate any other day, is he? No, it seems that the occasion has been saved for this morning. His head running a mile a minute, losing all composure he once had before. Losing his very sense of self as anxiety courses through his veins.

“What if it isn’t good enough? I need to present it to her soon. Need to make sure everything is perfect for her.” Apparently he had met her. When? You have not a single clue. Jimin hasn’t left the house in weeks other than to go hunt bugs and to go to the grocery store with you.

“What if the web isn’t big enough? She might not like the style either…” He grumbles, eyes locked on the carpet as he moves back and forth across your room, “God and what if she hates the food… No, no you know what she likes.”

“Jimin, she’ll like everything. It will be fine.” You groan, sitting up in bed to face him, voice gruff with morning air.. You don’t want him to be in here, talking about this. Talking to you about this. Shattering your heart every second that passes by.

You knew it would happen someday, you really did. You tried to do everything right. Tried to pretend reality wasn’t creeping through your windows with every second that passes by. Try to ignore the impending sense of doom that covered your skin.

Did everything right only to end up failing once again due to the rations of Park Jimin.

You try to look at him through the fuzz in your eyes, sleep still trying to force you back into its clutches with everything that it has. Try to see what he is doing– understand what he is saying. His voice continuing to speak yet not fluent enough for you to actually understand. His body twitches ever so slightly, head jerking as his teeth dig deeper and deeper into his thumb. It was almost like you weren’t even in the room– not to him at least. Lost within the tangles of his brain.

Pulling himself deeper and deeper into the recesses of his mind, spiralling out of control of everything that seems rational, everything that he is meant to do or meant to say. It’s almost like he isn’t in the room at all. Isn’t pacing along your floor, surrounded by your scent. Comforting his inner spider before it loses control entirely with the hormones that rush through his veins.

August 11th. The date was circled 5 times on his calendar– red exclamation points, doodles scattered across the stupid day. Yet now, for the life of him he can’t seem to remember why. He can’t seem to remember much of anything though, so that isn’t a surprise. Only his web. The gifts he’s prepared for this day. Yeah. Those are the only things he can seem to think about.

A hand lands on his shoulder– one that isn’t his own. Who’s touching him? He isn’t sure. Isn’t sure of much other than the smell combing through the room that becomes sweeter and sweeter by the second. Honey he is unable to resist.

Especially with how soft the hand is that touches him. How gentle it is on his shoulder, his pace back and forth falling just so he can revel in it. Understand it.

“Hey Min.” Oh. It’s you. Your voice coming through the fog. Your voice startling him from the dream.

Gorgeous, gorgeous you.

Mate.

“It’s gonna be okay, yeah?” Why do you sound sad? No, maybe it’s distressed. His face falls.

No, no, no. You shouldn’t be sad. You should never be sad. You should always be happy with him. You should love him. His love should make you whole. Your love makes him whole.

Wait, does he have your love yet?

Now he isn’t sure.

All he knows is that he should. You should. He should wrap you up in his nest, hold you close until you feel nothing but him. Don’t think about anybody else. Look at anybody else. You should always be happy and safe. Happy and safe with him just like he feels with you. Has always felt with you.

More than that stupid reserve. More than his webs back there. It was fate that brought the two of you together, right? Right? So he should be allowed to indulge just a little. He should be allowed to let go of this stupid, fucked up play he’s been putting on for so long. He should be allowed to do whatever he wants.

The reserve always taught him he was a wild spider, you know?

Wait, spider.

Spider.

His rut. That’s what’s coming today. That’s why the day was circled. That’s why Jimin isn’t acting like himself. That’s why his spider is itching, clawing to come out to play. Why he so desperately wants all of you to himself.

He hasn’t even presented his web yet.

He tilts his head at you, blank eyes staring down into bright ones. Ones that hold his entire world at your fingertips.

“There he is.” Your smile is almost blinding. Makes his head pound just like the sun's rays.

That’s right. That’s why he needs to keep his composure. To keep that smile on your lips. To keep you happy. To keep you falling in love with him slowly the human way. The way he knows you’d prefer. Knows you adore every second of.

He isn’t Taehyung. He isn’t Taehyung.

The human way is better. Better at keeping you pliant. Better at keeping you happy. Better at keeping you unafraid.

He hates when people are scared of him. Hates when people flinch with every movement he makes. Hates when people can’t just love him like he so craves. He’s still a hybrid. He still wants love. He was bred for it just like the rest of them.

So when you came into his life, so gentle and caring despite the palpable fear that scented the air– weighed it heavily, it sparked light behind his eyes. When he felt you touch him, felt the sparks dance across his flesh and allowed himself to inhale once more. When there were no traces of fear within you, only the scent of his mate. His eternity.

He knew he had to do the right thing. Had to make you love him the human way. Had to make you fall for him, endure the wait. Endure the daily struggles of his instincts just so you would never be afraid of him. The end would be worth it.

He would never let you fear him even at the cost of his own sanity.

Because he isn’t Taehyung. He’s Jimin. He’s a good spider.

“You need to be careful Min…” You tell him quietly. Your voice is the only anchor to his shaky world. The light brought him back from the edge over and over again today.

He needs to leave your room before all of his planning goes to waste. Calm himself down. Present to you his web and all of his gifts so you can accept him properly.

“Your thumb… it’s bleeding honey…” He tilts his head again, inspects your hands as they move closer. Tries to force lucid thought from behind his heavy eyelids as you touch his skin directly.

Tries to ignore the throb deep inside as you gently remove the finger from his lips. Pull it away from the fang that was piercing him. The sting of the bite.

He hadn’t even noticed it.

He watches as a single drop spills from the abrasion. Slipping down his finger. Feels the way your hands come up to cup his cheeks.

Leave. Leave. Leave.

The way your thumb comes to his lips, worry etched across your features as you swipe away any remaining blood from his lower lip.

Leave. He needs to leave.

He isn’t sure how your finger ends up in his mouth. His plush lips wrapping around the digit, tongue curling around your flesh as he licks away the red spilled. Sucking on it gently as heat curls in his stomach. His eyes half-lidded, staring into the recesses of your very soul.

A groan passes through him at the taste of your skin. How sweet you are against his tongue. Do you even know what a vixen you are? What a tease you’ve come to be over the past 9 months?

No. Of course you don’t. Not with the blush that rushes to your cheeks. The stutter of his name that passes through his lips. The questions that you ask– what are you doing? Wh-why?

He wants you to be quiet. To enjoy you for all it’s worth. Enjoy everything you have to offer.

The command is silent– no more than the press of his bleeding thumb to your lips. The demand that you part them for him. To clean that wound that you unknowingly caused.

A hand on your cheek directing your head back. He’s been a good little spider, you can be a good little girl too, can’t you?

You are.

“J-Jimi–” He slips it inside, resting the pad against your tongue. Holding it in place. Asking, begging for this one little thing from you. You don’t mind, do you? You’ve always made him feel better before. This is no different, is it?

And so you do.

He watches the way your eyelids fall, your lips close as you begin to gently suck against it like he so craves. Like he desires down to the very cells that make up his body.

To imagine it’s his cock instead. Gently fucking into you over and over again, teaching you how to take his it how he likes. How he knows you’ll like. You’ll love everything about him. You’re meant to. It’s in the fabric of your DNA and soon it will all be his. Right after he shows you his–

Shit.

He needs to leave.

Got carried away in his fantasy. In pretending again.

His rut is coming too fast, too strong now that he finally has his mate in his grasp. He needs to leave. He needs to calm down so he can go this properly.

He leaves you on the bed, more confused and distressed than when he first entered. Annoyance hovering over your entire wake in a blanket of unrest. One that you know will not ease your soul for the rest of the day.

The spider has locked himself away. Hiding from you. Keeping himself in the basement, door locked, shutters drawn to drown out any sense of you that may be persisting.

You, on the other hand, have had nothing to do but stew in your own emotions. Think about every little decrepit detail that occurred hours prior. Edicting yourself to only address him by spider even in your thoughts.

It’s spiteful, sure. But it’s the least he deserves, you know? After everything he’s put you though– pulling you along like a little puppet on a string. Making you sit idly by for him to give you any lick of affection he’s willing to part with. Making you feel special, like you're worth something every second that he gets only for him to remind you with too much familiarity that he isn’t yours to have.

He woke you up, told you about his mate, looked at you like he was going to fuck you, and made you suck on his finger only for him to leave? The sheer fucking audacity of this man.

You’re sick of it.

Sick of having to force everything down because you know it isn’t what he wants. Sick of falling in love with him every day. Sick of having to play house. Sick of not having him. Sick of being playing the lovesick fool.

So, into the novels you fall. Into alternate worlds that are far better than your own. Displacing yourself into new habitats, new environments to escape the confines of the four stuffy walls that surround your body, head, and heart.

Into a world where it’s okay to fall in love with whoever you want. Where it’s okay to feel wanted. Where reality can be shut away by your headphones and a good snack. Where you can ignore the body approaching behind you. The tap on your shoulder.

You try to, honestly. And a good attempt it was.

Keeping your grip firm on the pages, nails digging into the paper below. Breath in your lungs held as if doing so would keep him away. Eyes tracing the pages over and over again though reading nothing. Attempting to appear as if you didn’t notice him at all.

Maybe he would leave, that was your biggest hope. Take the headphones placed firmly over your ears as a loud, obnoxious hint. That he would see you’re not interested and retreat to his basement layer to plot on the next way to torture your heart.

He doesn’t. He never would.

His frame comes to kneel in front of you. To stare up at you with those big brown doe eyes that you know you could never escape. Placing a gentle hand on your knee, trying to get you to see that he is there. That he wants to see you.

You see his lips move, though ignore entirely what they say. Letting out a huff, turning your body away from his own. Continuing to mindlessly stare at the pages even though their contents holds no meaning in this moment. No real value.

His forehead drops to your leg, a sigh leaving his throat. Words mumbled from his lips you’re unable to make out– not that you would want to hear them anyway.

Maybe it’s a temper tantrum of sorts. Giving him a taste of his own medicine. To feel even a pinch of what you do. He probably never does.

Your fight is a good one. It truly is– at least you think so. But it all comes tumbling down the second his lips press against your knee. His hands reaching past your iron grip on the book to hold your own.

You will always fall to the likes of Jimin.

Especially when you see his lips mouth the word please. His brows crested with worry, his lower lip quivering in worry. Fangs biting the surface to try and soothe the nerves he feels.

Any sense of foreboding he held earlier, gone. The tick of his shoulders, the cold, blank stare of his eyes vanished. Your Jimin, the one you’re used to, in love with, rising to the surface again.

You’re unable to fight against the plea, no matter how much you want to. Unable to fight against him.

“What is it.” Your voice is harsh as you remove your headphones, setting the book to the side. Much more than it appears he’d like it to be if the flinch of his neck is anything to go by.

“I…” Words feel lost in his throat, but he forces himself to continue forward, “I have something I need to show you, human…”

Why is he acting so weird? Acting like earlier never happened? He seems nervous, almost petrified at your reaction. As if anything you say could break him entirely.

You don’t understand it at all. Anything about this situation, really.

“Okay…?” You watch his face carefully, trying to reason. To figure out why exactly the air seems so heavy. Why this situation feels so tense. “Show me then?”

“I…You have to come with me?” It sounds like a question, his face flinching at his own words. He’s meant to do this perfectly. Why can’t he seem to get it right? Why can’t his instincts help him with this? “Like, I can’t bring it up here… I need you to follow me?”

“Huh?” The quiet breath leaves your throat as your features pinch.

He quickly tries to explain further, trying to help you see through the worry on your face, “Not far I promise. Just to the basement, yeah?”

Your head jerks back in surprise, “You never let me go down there.”

“Yeah but…it’s special this time.” Oh.

It’s almost as if the pieces click together on their own. Your brain drawing conclusions, making decisions for you despite the obvious staring right in your face. His mate is probably down there. Wants you to meet her.

You can only sigh, accept your fate for what it is. Follow the boy with the string to the basement once again, just like the first night he came tumbling into your life.

“Okay.”

He holds your hand as you walk.

Holds it as if his life depends on it. As if it’s the red string of fate that has tied your two bodies together for the rest of eternity. As if he might die the second you two part. As if you might run away the second he lets go.

You never do, never try to run away from him. You’ve tried to run away from your feelings for so long. The least you can do is see through to the end of them, right? That would be the right thing to do. The dignified thing instead of trying to throw a tantrum on the floor.

The walk to the basement feels like the longest in your life. A marathon you have no training for, no experience with tugging you along. Silence extended for miles along each creak of the floorboards, each set of the dim stairs.

Jimin left the lights off, dusk settling along the horizon not long ago. Only distant flickers from the basement coming through as you make your way down. Candle light in the distance lighting the way.

He doesn’t say a thing as your feet reach the bottom of the stairs, toes cushioned by soft silk lining the floors. He doesn’t have to.

It’s beautiful. That’s the only way you can describe what he’s turned the basement into.

Beautiful silks cover every waking surface– the floors, the walls, the ceiling all lined in brilliant patterns of white dancing across the surface. Creating stories as if they were living themselves.

You wish you could stare at them. Admire them for the rest of your life. Decipher each piece laying, coating the surface. Envisioning the world through the eyes of Jimin. Through the world around him.

Webs cross from floor to ceiling, taking space over the room. Intricately laid in patterns you are more accustomed to with spiders. Webbed hatching sectioning off parts of the space, acting as furniture for the bug to rest on.

As your eyes scan the room, you finally find what you think has to be the most gorgeous web in the world. Sitting in the far right corner of the room stands a nest that takes up the entire corner. The effort it took to make it clear in its craft. So soft, so comfortable.

You almost want to curl up in it yourself.

Illuminated by only the glow of candle light, Jimin does nothing but watch as you take everything in. Watch as your face changes into that of euphoria. Mesmerised by everything he has worked so hard on, everything he’s done just to impress you.

You turn to face him, staring at him with nothing but wonder in your eyes.

“Jimin, this is– fuck this is incredible,” Your voice is breathless, cut off by how overwhelmed you are with everything. With him. “This must’ve taken you so long, it’s so beautiful. Oh my god, how did you–”

He can’t take it anymore. Can’t take it now that he has you here, has you in his web. Now that he can keep you in it forever. Complimenting him. Completing him. He needs to finish with the rest of this fast. Before he does something he’ll regret. Before he finishes showing you how good a mate he will be to you properly.

He tugs you forward, practically puzzling as he tugs you deeper into his room of webs. Expertly guiding you through each one without a second to spare.

Jittery, excited. Feeting rocking themselves back and forth as he sits you on a blanket placed on the ground.

He isn't going to last much longer. Not before his heat takes over. Before he loses his mind at you in the sight of his nest. His mate in his nest. Waiting to be bred. Waiting for–

No, no Jimin. Stop it. Stop acting like a spiderling that doesn’t know what to do with himself now that he has his mate in his nest.

“I…” He takes a deep breath, voice shaky as he tries to calm himself down, “I made us a picnic… I hope you like it.”

His spider hisses at the words, hating having to describe it as something stupid like a picnic. No, it's a nuptial gift. Evidence that he’s a good enough mate. That he’s good enough for you. That he deserves you.

You watch him, watch as he pushes the basket filled to the brim with food over to you. Watch as his frame shakes slightly as he stares at you, fingers tapping against strings of webs closest to your leg.

You can’t help but feel lost. Overwhelmed with affection, but utterly, entirely, hopelessly lost all the same. What is he doing? Why is he presenting all of this for you? Shouldn’t he be doing this for his mate? Isn’t all of this some type of courting ritual?

Oh.

It appears the puzzle you constructed– pieces matched together haphazardly stuck together with glue isn’t the solution after all. Isn’t the reality presented before you know.

You’re… you’re Jimin’s mate?

Your eyes widen, head jerking to meet Jimin’s gaze. His pupils shaky, not daring to leave the surface of the basket. Not daring to move an inch until you accept him.

You’re an idiot.

“J-Jimin a-are we…?” You hesitate to ask, hesitate to break the gentle balance residing over the entire basement.

His head snaps to face your own, eyes plagued with the same blank, predatory look as before.

“Mate.” Deep, harsh, scratchy. His voice makes you feel like he’s going to devour you whole. Like he is the monster waiting in the deepest recesses of your nightmares when that couldn’t be farther from the truth. When in reality he is the very being your soul yearns for stronger than any other.

The revelation, the– everything leaves you overwhelmed. Emotions strung up for the stars, casting aside any comets that tried to hurdle towards the perfect glass encasing this moment. This eternity you wish to live in forever as you finally understand that he wants you just as much as you want him.

You can’t help but grab his cheeks– ignore how venomous he looks, and press your lips against his own. Can’t help the explosion behind your eyelids, the sparks that travel across your skins in euphoric waves. The way your heart swells like a balloon, racing in your chest so fast you fear you may die.

Every emotion you’ve felt that day, every nagging, creeping sensation finding its way into the back of your skull vanishes in an instant. No going back. No orchestra or chorus reprise. No thoughts of not being his mate. You are his mate.

Only him.

Only Jimin.

He doesn’t part with you, not for a second. Not when he finally has you against him. When you so easily rise into his lap. When his natural instincts finally stop screaming at him and take over completely. Kiss you with everything he’s worth. Devour you whole.

His hands find purchase on your hips, blunt nails digging into the skin. Mocking him for not doing this in the closet with you all those months ago. Allowing him to truly understand how good it would’ve felt then. How good it will feel every second that follows.

He thinks you have to be the prettiest thing in the world.

His spider thinks that you need to be bred full of his spiderlings. Fucked so hard that you wont be able to walk– wont be able to leave his nest. That he’ll be able to tie you up nice and pretty, stuff you with his cum over and over again until you’d never even think about leaving.

His spider is winning.

“Min…” Your voice is breathless, trying to keep up with the flurry of kisses he presses against your lips, your face– anywhere he can reach. It’s like he’s addicted to the feeling, like he’s making up for lost time.

“Min, I love you.” And just like that, any sanity he has left vanishes.

His spider has won.

Without a second thought you’re lifted from your place on his lap, thrown carelessly into his nest. His nest where you will stay. His nest where he’ll keep you. All thoughts vanished from that pretty little head of yours. Just like it should be.

His hands find the back of his collar, shirt discarded without a second thought on the floor. He doesn’t need it anymore. Not when he has you. When he wants to feel you fully.

You can only stare– fawn at his tan skin. The gentle muscles on display for you. For your eyes only while he crawls towards you. Stalks you just like they might a pretty little butterfly caught in their web. Wrapped in webs and killed without a second thought.

His lips find yours once again. Slotting together, filling the other to make them whole. Dazed in lust and passion, neither soul hoping there would ever be a way out for the other.

Well, there won’t be for you. But that’s okay. You’ll love it. Love every second of it.

He knows it as his fingers dance against your skin. Sliding beneath the hem of your shirt, running with skilled ease up your sides. The chill that racks through your body is evidence enough. The way you so easily allow him to draw your shirt over your head solidifies it. Your shorts follow, making it set in stone.

Your breath comes out in short pants, every slight touch, every little movement sends fire burning through your skin. Igniting you, setting your core ablaze with heat that only he can extinguish.

Fingers gently sliding over your ribs, thumbs coming just blow your breasts to rub circles into the skin while his fangs nip gently into your lower lip. He can’t bite you now. No, after he mates you he can bite you all he wants.

He groans at the thought, hips rocking themselves against your clothed cunt. Allowing you to feel all of him– the press of his cock, the motion of his need allowing you to fall higher and higher into a heaven you did not think possible.

You whine at him to do something, anything. Too impatient to wait any longer. Too impatient to live a second more without something, anything buried inside of you.

His smile is sick, twisted as he reclines back on his heels. Allows himself to get a good look at you.

“Shh, Shh…” His hand cups your cheek, smoothing his thumb against your lips. Pressing it inside with more ease than before. More compliance than before. There’s a good little girl.

“Poor thing is having a hard time, huh?” He mocks gently, hips pressed firm against your own allowing you to feel every inch of him, “Pretty lips all swollen, pussy a little mess from just kissing… mm mm…”

He groans, hand slipping between your legs. What he finds is no more than a mess of a girl. Hips bucking upwards. Slick dripping from your center, panties coated in arousal. Puffy little clit begging for any attention he’s willing to give it.

Without any hesitation his thumb finds your clit, pressing against it without any thought of reprieve. Without any thought to give you any of the relief you crave. You’ve made him wait this long, you can wait a second, no?

He groans high as you buck against his hand, mewl leaving your lips as some sort of plea. Ah~ how cute. Such a little thing so desperate for something, anything that you’re willing to give up your very head in return? How cute! How adorable!

His spider preens. Is almost so belated he doesn’t notice the hands that come down to grip his wrist. Hold him in place all so you can circle your hips against his thumb. Rub adorable little rings into your clit without any help from him. Use him to make yourself feel good.

A coo leaves his lips. Who is he to deny such a pretty little human?

“Ah pretty baby wants to feel good, does she?” He almost giggles at how pathetic you look. How adorably you cling to him. How hard you try.

His arm is ripped from your grasp, pulling back from the very place you desire him most. Where your arousal soaks the cotton of cotton, so palpable he can practically taste it in the air.

“It’s okay baby…” He sees the annoyance in your face, the battiness you hold in your heart coming to light. Excited to tame it. Excited to quell the pretty little devil in his web.

Tie you up. Breed full.

Breed you.

His fingers work fast. Arms are pulled over your head, silks quickly pinning them to the surface. Strings wrapping and wrapping until he’s sure you’re secure. Sure you can’t move.

His hips gently rock against your own, clothes cock pressing against your core. Watching as your hips buck, as you try to urge him closer with a pathetic whine.

See exactly how you struggle against the strings.

Perfect, perfect girl. How did he get so lucky, huh? Can never be sure.

You’re unable to stop the cry that leaves your throat as his hands pull your panties aside, finger thrusting into your wet heat. Filling you up, making you feel a little more whole.

“Min~” The moan of his name is shaky. Every sense you have in overdrive as he works his finger against your walls. Every push inside deeper, harder. Curling against your walls in the exact way you craved.

Pleasure coils in your stomach faster than you thought possible. A second finger joining the first, pumping in and out as he prepares you for his cock. Prepared you to take all of him and nothing less.

He knows you can do it. You can, can’t you?

“Mhmm baby, I know… head a little clearer now, huh?” He chuckles, chastising, “Can only think when you’re full. It’s so cute.”

You whimper at his words, head rolling back as the coil pulls tighter and tighter within your gut. Urging you to just let it snap, feel everything you’ve been waiting for.

“F-feels good…” You mutter quietly, unable to see the haze cloud his vision. The way his amused expression drops into that of a wild animal.

Without any warning his fingers pull out of your heat, body leaving your own entirely as he stands. Grabbing your hips, dragging them closer. Flipping your body over. Setting you pretty on your knees, arms uncomfortable crossed in front of you.

He quickly rids himself of his pants, allowing his cock to spring free from their confines. Head red and messy as it hits his stomach. Angry at how neglected you’ve left him. How desperately he wants this.

You have no way of preparing yourself for the drag of his cock through your lips. The gentle nudge against your clit. Thick head dragging through your folds, spreading your arousal. Mixing it with his pre-cum.

Making you messy. Making you dirty just for him. Making you belong to him.

“Gonna fill my mate.” All humour is gone from the man behind you, as if he is someone else entirely. It’s really too bad your head has a few too many screws loose to care. Care about anything other than the way his firm head presses against your hole. The way his blunt nails dig into your flesh.

“Gonna breed her. Mate her. Make her mine.” It’s almost as if his word is a command. The very sentences he utters become law.

You can only nod your head. Give yourself to the very man that fate led you to all those months ago. “Want~”

The thrust of his hips into your walls is almost too much to bear. A cry leaving your lips as he fucks himself inside in a single thrust. Forcing you to take him to the hilt, to feel all of him stretch your walls. No break. No waiting around.

You’ve both done enough waiting.

It hurts— the burn, as he stretches you full. Presses his cock against your walls making sure your cunt remembers no one but him.

The way he gives no reprieve, fucking into you like an animal starved. Pulling back until only the tip remains inside before fucking himself fully inside once more.

“Min!” You cry, waves of pain and pleasure boiling all the same within your bones. All the same inside of your blurred head, nothing but static and thoughts of him behind the line of your eyes. Slipping off into space as you let cunt clenched pathetically around his cock.

“Good mate, taking me so well. Such a good human.” He groans, hips pulling back and thrusting into you over and over again. Making you fall apart with his pace. Pumping his cock into your pathetic little hole fast and hard. Ruining you for any other man.

Making sure he will be the only one you allow to enter heaven.

Your moans come out wanton, pleaing. Hips start to move back against him, trying to keep up with his pace despite the burn you begin to feel in your tied arms. Desperate to let him know just how good he’s filling you. Just how good he’s making you feel.

“My mate.” His pants come out harsh, breath on your neck as he hovers close. The sound of skin and against skin is the only thing you’re able to hear. The pressure of Jimin’s lips against your neck makes you feel like you’re about to go insane.

He’s desperate to make you fall apart on his cock alone. Pleasure building and building, the coil tight. Ready to snap at any moment. Ready to fall apart at his command.

“Gonna make you mine forever pretty.” His voice is featherlight once more. The switches have you reeling, your brain spinning. “Want that, don’t you? For me to bite you? Mark you up? Breed you full of my spiderlings? Ruin that pretty little head for anything else.”

He sighs, nails digging into your hips where they’re sure to leave bruises. You nod your head in agreement, moans spilling past your lips as his hips change their angle. His cock hitting the spot that leaves you seeing stars on every thrust.

“Say the word and you’re mine.” You feel his fangs against your skin. The harsh drag across your delicate skin. “Forever.”

You can’t take it anymore, pleasure burning through you. Blinding you. Unable to think about anything else other than the rough thrusts of his cock against your walls.

“Please.” It’s no more than a whimper, but he swears it’s the loudest thing he’s ever heard.

His teeth clamp into your flesh— the final thing needed to push you over the edge into bliss. Your body stutters, walls a vice around his cock as the coil finally snaps. Heat flowing through every cell you possess. The only thing in your soul is Jimin.

Your back arches, eyes dotting with black as you allow it to overtake you. Jimin rocking you against him, groaning as he fills you with his cum, painting your walls white. Allowing you to ride out your high with him. Finally allowing the rut to rid his brain for only a moment.

He slowly pulls out of you, panting. Quickly moving to cover your center back up with your underwear. Make sure all of his cum stays tucked away in your pretty little pussy to get you nice and pregnant.

You can only whimper, body twitching at every movement he makes. Worn down your bones— energy sucked so dry you can’t even feel the throb of your neck. Don’t even notice the blood that drips from where he marked you— claimed you in the way only a hybrid can.

All you're sure of is the need to be close to him. Need to feel him.

Is this what he had been feeling all along? Marks were known to do that, to allow you to feel what your mate does. If he had to endure what you’re feeling right now, it had to have been hell for him.

“Min…” you calm his name. Pull him from where he stares between your legs. Where his fingers rub circles into the surface of your underwear, spreading any cum that leaks from your twitching hole.

Within a second he’s at attention, staring at you with all of the love in the world. You’re not sure how you missed it before. How you could have deluded yourself into believing any less.

He pouts as you wiggle at your restraints, silk holding your arms in place all this time. He gently shakes his head, slowly flipping your body back over onto its back. Crawling over you to look at your face properly. Take in your fucked out expression. Ruined his pretty little human. Made her perfect.

“Don’t want to.” His lower lip juts out at you, eyes wide just like a begging dog. “Look pretty tied up in my web. Should stay like this. Forever.”

“I don’t think my job would like that very much.” You giggle, lip pouting out to match his own. He leans down, quickly capturing your mouth in a quick kiss.

Something hard pressed against your leg once more. His hand comes down to guide it against your heat. Rub against you despite the oversensitivity and cum leaking from your hole.

“Then we move to the woods together… I’ll hunt for us…” He grumbles, pushing your underwear to the side once more. Collecting any cum that has spilled out with his cock, gently fucking it back into your cunt with the head.

A whine rips from your lips due to oversensitivity. Pussy sore, aching from what he just put you though. What you aptly begged for. Yet you can’t deny him. Don’t want to deny him with how good it feels to be filled. How addicted you’ve become. Cock drunk.

“Wh-what?” You try to breathe, walls fluttering around his length as he slowly thrusts back inside. Filling you to the brim once again. “W-we can’t do that, Minnie…”

His thrusts are slow, languid. Almost like he’s making love. Treating you with utmost care despite how wrecked your entire frame is.

He is entirely unaffected. His rut leaves him wanting for more and more until you have nothing left to give. Face twisting into confusion at your words.

“Why can’t we? Make you up a nice pretty web… keep you full all the time” He hums against your neck, gently licking at his mark, “treat you like a real good mate, yeah? Fill you up over and over. Will look so pretty with my spiderlings.”

He moans the words, hips speeding up ever so slightly at the thought. It dawns on you that this must be his rut talking. Filling his head with nonsense he knows can’t come true. In a few days when he wakes up from it, he’ll probably pretend he never said anything about taking you to the woods. Keeping you there.

No harm in agreeing, is there? Especially when he makes you feel so good. So happy and full. When it makes him feel just as good. When your head starts to feel fuzzy, the exhaustion weighs heavily on your consciousness. You’re on birth control anyway, it's fine.

“Mmhmm… sounds nice..” You moan quietly, already feeling your second orgasm approaching. Allowing yourself to become lost in the same dream as him. Allowing yourself to fall victim to pretty words and false promises. Ones that he intends to make true.

“Gonna take such good care of my mate.” He groans, face buried in your neck. He feels your walls clamp around him, pulling him in over and over again. Cunt never wanting him to leave.

His hand draws between your thighs, fingers rubbing quick circles into your clit. Neither of you are going to last long. Both too sensitive to do anything but fall into the pleasure of each other.

Pussy fluttering against his cock, head rolling back as your high runs through you once more. White clouding your vision, ears ringing as you are overcome with fire. Drowning in the feeling of his cock fucking you full of his cum once again.

He lets out a harsh groan as he fills you. Breeds you just like a good spider would. Makes you feel complete as he helps you through both of your highs.

Your eyes feel heavy— too heavy to stay open even a second longer. Too tired to stay awake as he pulls your underwear back over your center. As he pulls your body close to his own.

He doesn’t blame you, never could. It must be hard having to keep up with a hybrid during their rut. But he knows you can do it. Knows you’ll do it for him. Especially with the promises you made. The ones you made only to him.

The last words you hear before falling under the veil of consciousness is a simple declaration. One you’ve waited months to hear.

“I love you.”

“Y/n! Hurry up!”

The whine of Jimin’s voice is louder than any car, highway, hell— aeroplane you’ve ever heard, you’re sure of it. The grip of his hand around your own is like iron, tugging you along the worn trail path, trying to urge you faster than your feet will allow.

“I’m going! I’m goin!” You chide with him, giggle leaving your lips at his hurried nature. You don’t think you’ve ever seen the spider more excited. Maybe even more so than when he strokes the bite mark scarred into your shoulder– your permanent reminder that you are his and he is yours.

“Not fast enough!” He groans, head rolling back in annoyance, “The best spot is going to get taken!”

He’s told you about this spot time and time again– excitement palpable with every mention. A beautiful clearing back at the reserve, one that the trees shine perfectly through. The best spot for basking in the whole park, as well as for begging humans for snacks.

You smile at the thought. Following as close behind him as your feet will manage. Blanket and bags of food tight in your grip. After months of paperwork, he can finally return to this place without fear they’ll take you away from him. The mate licence in your wallet proof enough of it.

He finally gets to take you to the reserve– the place he called home for so long before he met you. The place where he first learned how to be a proper spider. The first place he learned to make friends. He’s most excited about the latter part, getting to show off his shiny new mate to all of his friends. The one he caught the human way.

He’s been talking about it for days, since you first brought up the idea of visiting. Of wanting to see where he lived before he met you. Prattling on and on about everything he’s going to show you, how he’s going to introduce you to Jungkook if he can. About the waterfall over the cove that you two can swim in without anyone finding out.

All of it is a dream come true for your little spider. Your mate.

You smile at the thought– how excited he is as he helps you set up the blanket on the ground. As he helps spread food all around you. Body jittery, head twitching at every little sound.

It’s clear he’s going a little crazy with joy. Entirely ecstatic to have you here with him. Sitting across from him on the ground in a way that almost mocks the picnic you had in his basement that night months ago.

Ah, sorry. Nuptial gift ceremony. He liked it a lot better when you called it that.

“Oh! And then, after we eat, I can introduce you to the head of the park! She’s Namjoon’s mate, but she doesn’t know it yet.” He talks to himself, chatting idly about nothing as he presses another strawberry to your lips. You eagerly take it, biting down on the fruit without a second thought.

You cover your mouth with your hand as you speak, “Really? It must be difficult to confess to her, then.”

He nods his head, overexcited as he looks past you into the trees. Nose twitching as he tries to pick up a scent. Yellow tinted sunglasses high on his nose to block any light from hurting his delicate pupils.

You can’t help but think about how beautiful he is. How lucky you are to have him.

His hair has grown out since that fateful day months ago, blonde replaced by a deep blue that puts the night sky to shame. How his frame has bulked out ever so slightly. Pretty tan skin looking more healthy than ever. His head off in the clouds, trying to ground himself so he doesn’t pick you up and drag you off into the woods.

The human way is never easy for him.

“Mhmm… he’s trying but he isn’t very good at it. Doesn’t understand how humans like it to be done…” He mumbles.

“Hybrid’s do it different?”

“Yeah,” He seems a little lost in space, nose twitching harsher as he tries to recognise the exact scent he knows will be coming soon. Jungkook can never hold himself back from a picnic, no matter how far. He just wishes his nose was stronger.

“Hybrids just take their mate right away. Prove they’re a good mate and then it’s done. But human’s you have to teach.” Your shoulders drop slightly, and maybe if it wasn’t for the love you felt for him or the mate mark pressing against your neck, you would have understood the severity of his words. Of teaching a human, tricking them into making them fall.

“Oh…” You pout, head coming down to rest against his shoulder. None the wiser to the meaning behind his words, “I’m sorry… it must’ve been hard for you.”

He only shakes his head, “It’s okay. I just didn’t want you to ever be scared.”

Suddenly, Jimin is standing. Eyes darting across the underbrush that surrounds the treeline. You follow his vision, squinting slightly to try and make out exactly what he is looking at when two antennae pop over the other side of a bush. Twitching, pointing in your direction. Hunting down food as they move closer.

The insect moves close, tilting his head as he finally moves within your line of vision. Mop of brown floppy hair on his head, wide bunny eyes. Twitching nose all the same. If it wasn’t for the lack of ears and black antennae jolting from his head, you would’ve thought he was a rodent.

“Kook!” Jimin’s voice is loud as he quickly run’s to meet the boy. The other looks just as excited, eyes lighting up with stars as his legs take off in the same direction. The two fall into a puddle of laughter and play fighting as they fall to the ground in greeting.

The infamous Jungkook, an ant hybrid– the biggest ant hybrid you’ve seen, mind you. Jimin’s best friend is finally revealed. And you have to say, seeing them together. Watching as your mate attempts to playfully tie him up silks has to be the prettiest sight you’ve ever laid eyes on.

“Oh my god, Min!” You laugh as Jimin struggles, the giant ant hybrid easily breaking free from the others strings. Instantly the attention is on you. Jimin leaning back to his heels, head thrown back as he whines.

“Shut up! He’s gotten stronger! My webs hold you good enough!” You continue to laugh, unaware of the ant sneaking closer. His antenna tickling your shoulder as he stares at the food in front of you. Begging for just a little taste to bring home to his colony, a little bit to make the queen happy.

You happily oblige, making room for the two of them to join you once again after their little scuffle. A reunion too cute to not try and remember forever. And just like that, conversation begins to flow easily between the three of you. Almost as if Jimin never left in the first place.

The two of them spend all afternoon catching up– Jimin reciting the story of how you two met, Jungkook opening up about the cute human that’s started to come by the park every saturday. Pulling his antennae down as he speaks, clearly embarrassed. Telling you all about how they met, about the reserve.

“Ah~ don’t mind him. Kookie’s just embarrassed cause he doesn’t know how to talk to girls.” Jimin teases, leaning over to ruffle Jungkook’s hair. His arm tightly wrapped around your frame, holding you close. “Not every day that an ant hybrid has a mate outside of their colony, you know?”

“Hyung! Shut up!” He quickly whines, eyes shooting a subtle glare towards the other. Legs kicking slightly underneath his frame. “You… know what it means… especially cause she’s human…”

“I know.” His fangs shimmer as his hand reaches out to ruffle his hair, “Don’t worry. She’ll wanna be your queen in no time.”

You nod your head in agreement, picking up another piece of fruit and popping it into your mouth. Nothing much to add to the conversation– you’ll never really understand the intricacy of hybrids and how they work. Especially those like Jungkook and Jimin.

Yet, you can’t help but feel at peace with that. At peace with them and this moment. Content with your life, content with your mate and the life you’ve built together. You hope that Jungkook can do the same with his own someday. Build a nice little colony or whatever it is that ants do.

“Mhmm, anyone would want someone as cute as you.” You smile, watching as the ant’s eyes go wide. Blush covering his cheek as he tries to pull his antenna down to cover them. Jimin instantly pounces on the other, starting a new round of play fighting. Laughing about having to defend his mates honour. That she isn’t allowed to look at any other hybrid. No one but him.

You giggle along with them, leaning back from your spot. Taking a mental picture of the scene in front of you. Jimin happy, playing. The sunset over the horizon as the three of you laugh in the woods. As Jimin no longer looks anything like that spider all those months ago.

And maybe he’s right. Maybe you did fall into his trap lined with silk. But you wouldn’t have it any other way.

Even when you wake up in the middle of the woods. When you wake up in a cabin decorated in pretty webbing. When you come to find society is far behind you. When you discover no one else other than Jimin telling you that this is exactly what you asked for.

You wouldn’t have it any other way.

⋆𐙚 if you enjoyed this fic, please consider buying me a kofi!

© all rights reserved to ctrlhope 2019-2024 ; do not copy, plagiarise, or translate.

[rninies]

✮ an unexpected confession - gojo satoru

synopsis: gojo just won't admit his feelings for you.

warnings: fluff, fem!reader, gojo is shy in front of you btw, GOJO IS A SAP. — wc: 757

notes: let's hope this fic does not flop like the megumi and aki fic sobs </3 HAPPY NEW YEAR EVERYONE MWAH

gojo satoru is a busy man. as a special-grade sorcerer, he doesn’t have time for anything. well, almost anything. you are one of the staff members in jujutsu high, and having frequent meetups with satoru, you befriended him very easily.

your friendship with satoru deepened when you were assigned to a mission because your coworker couldn’t make it. unsurprisingly, satoru was the sorcerer they had assigned to deal with the situation.

having satoru as your friend is… interesting, to say the least. satoru makes your life more lively with his annoying antics and silly hangout ideas. his students have seen how close he’s been with you, and it’s a weird sight because they have never seen satoru be this affectionate with anyone.

“megumi,” yuuji whispers (though that was not necessarily needed since they were outside and satoru was too occupied by you), catching megumi’s attention. 

“what?”

“do you think gojo sensei has a crush on y/n?” yuuji asks, head filled with questions. “i mean, have you seen how close they are? i don’t think i’ve ever seen gojo sensei be this close with anyone at all.”

“are you stupid?” megumi deadpans. “isn’t it obvious? have you seen how he looks at her?” megumi is a quiet kid, but he’s observant, which might be bad for satoru.

“y/n!” satoru exclaims, struggling to run through the snow. “come on, there’s this place i want to show you!”

you lift your head, having just sat down literally two minutes ago. “right now? but i just-” satoru grabs your hand and before you know it, you have teleported to the place satoru wanted to show you. “okay, or you can just teleport me here.”

you took a quick look around, noticing that you and satoru were quite far from where you were originally. there was no one around, flowers decorated the field in front of you, and the snow was falling. “it’s really pretty here. how’d you know about this place?”

“huh? oh, suguru told me.” satoru replied, looking at everywhere else but you. “i wanted to bring you here.”

you were confused. usually, satoru would be all over you when showing you something new, but now? he’s keeping his distance from you. “satoru, are you okay?”

satoru choked on his spit, quickly regaining composure. “wh-what’re you talking about? of course i’m fine. i have no idea what you’re talking about.”

you raised your eyebrows, crossing your arms. “really?” you stared at satoru for a long time before he caved, letting out a huge sigh.

“okay, fine! just- give me a minute.” satoru turns his body and takes something out of his jacket. “here, for you.” he gives you a keychain you were looking at the last time you went out with satoru — the only reason you didn’t buy it was that you were in a hurry to go buy megumi’s birthday present.

you take the keychain from satoru’s hand, smiling at him. “when did you get this? thank you.”

“the day after we hung out.” satoru mumbles. “um, i don’t know how obvious i’ve been with my feelings for you, y/n, but-”

“oh, you were very obvious, satoru.”

“yeah, exactly, so i just wanted- wait, what?” satoru immediately stops speaking, staring at you with wide eyes. “why didn’t you say anything?!”

you giggled. “well, it is pretty entertaining to see the gojo satoru get all flustered whenever i brush my hand against yours, or when i go and hug you.”

“you-” satoru turns red. “do you like teasing me this much?”

you hummed in reply. “i love teasing you as much as i love you.” satoru immediately went quiet, processing what you just said. it took him three seconds before he scooped you in his arms, hugging you tightly. “satoru! put me down!”

“no way! it’s my turn to tease you.” satoru exclaims happily. you can feel how happy he is. once he puts you down, satoru cups your cheeks, immediately giving you a kiss. “god, you’re so pretty.”

a giggle escapes your mouth. “you look really pretty blushing too earlier.”

“i wasn't blushing! it’s hot out.” satoru tries defending himself.

“it is literally snowing outside as we speak are you joking.” you deadpanned, giving him an ‘are-you-serious?’ look.

“hey, shut up.” satoru grabs a pile of snow below him, rolls it into a ball, and throws it at you. satoru sticks his tongue at you when you gasp.

“satoru! come back here!” you immediately started running after him, chasing him with a snowball in your hand.

[www-jungwon]

in which roommate!heeseung insists on decorating, and you're sure he's up to something (why has he got so much mistletoe?) ୨୧

tw. yellinggg, kissing, idk what rlly went through my head when writing this its kinda cringe bro wc. 887

“ok, i give up.” heeseung looks over in confusion, holding a box of christmas decorations in his hand.

“just tell me! i give up.”

“what are you talking about?” he squints, shifting the box in his arm.

you shift on the couch agitatedly, pausing your tv show. “why are you hanging all these up? like, do you want my room, or you feel bad because you broke something that’s mine, or you’re trying to hint you want-”

“it’s for christmas spirit!”

you roll your eyes. you’ve been trying to figure out your roommate’s obsession with decorating the apartment for the last week, but every time he’s answered with the same response. ‘christmas spirit.’ christmas spirit your ass. you’ll figure it out, you just need a couple more days.

“sure.”

he raises his eyebrows innocently. “i don’t know why you don’t believe me.”

“maybe because in the 3 years we’ve lived together you haven’t ever even lifted a finger to help me put decorations up?”

he shrugs. “change of heart.”

definitely up to something.

–

heeseung is being weird. he keeps trying to hide his decorations when you walk in on him, like he’s scared of you seeing them. even though you’ll see them anyway, because it’s your apartment.

after seeing him drop his box for the third time in two days, it clicks. a party. that explains his controlling of the decorations to look his way, and the secret phone calls he’s been making. you absolutely hate crowds, and your one rule the only time you’ve lived here has been no parties. he’s never complained before, but you suppose he’s finally gotten tired.

you’ve never felt more betrayed. heeseung, the most considerate roommate you’ve ever had, heeseung who keeps track of the amount of chocolate in your storage, heeseung who buys you things just because they reminded him of you, heeseung who is in charge of all the groceries, no discussion. heeseung, who you think you might be in love with, that heeseung, trying to throw a holiday party in your apartment without your permission when you leave tomorrow.

and as you see him emerge from the doorway, his head brushing the mistletoe he hung, fiery anger builds up inside you. how dare he hum, act all normal like you didn’t just watch him try to hide his decorations, how dare he do this secretly, how dare he make you love him while he’s betraying you like this?

so when he asks what you want him to make for dinner, you want to hit him in the face.

“you what?” he asks, and the way his nose scrunches in confusion only makes you angrier, and you snap.

“lee heeseung, i hate you!”

his doe eyes widen in surprise.

“what? i-”

“you’re so stupid! i can’t believe you would do all this just for a stupid holiday party! over me!”

you’ve stepped up to him, him backing up slightly as you walk forward.

“i don't know what-”

“and i wouldn’t have cared if you just asked! i’m not even gonna be here! but i thought that you at least cared about me enough to ask instead of sneaking around.”

“y/n, i-”

“and you find it so amusing when i ask you why, and this whole time it’s been for a party? you’ve been lying to me, sneaking around, just so you can throw a party without my permission? do i mean that little to you,” your words are choked by a sob, “that little, that-”

“y/n, i promise i-”

“that little, that a party is more important to you than me.” tears cross down your cheeks, tracing over the edges of your face.

heeseung’s brows are furrowed now, a concerned frown pushed onto his face. “y/n, i swear-”

how dare he act concerned, when it’s his fault. 

a yell rips out of you, “you don’t get to care about me now! not after, not after this, not after i’ve spent three years loving you and you’ve just thrown all my trust away for a party.”

he’s broken now, you can see it on his face in the way his brows are drawn in and you know you’ve hurt him, and you feel awful. he watches you carefully, taking a deep breath before he moves almost imperceptibly closer.

“y/n.”

you sniff weakly, “yeah?”

his voice is soft with hurt. “i love you, too. and i’d never throw a party without your permission, and it wasn’t that, and i’m sorry i was being so secretive but i promise it wasn’t because of that and i think- i think you should look up.”

you hadn’t realized how close you were to him now, your hands brushing his. you turn your head up slowly, your lips almost pressing against his, and you see it.

the mistletoe.

“i love you, y/n. and i thought- i wanted to tell you, before you left and i didn’t know how, but since you were always decorating instead of me doing anything i wanted to do something nice for you, and then i realized maybe if i could put mistletoe up then you would get the hint and i wouldn’t have to say anything.”

his arms slide around your waist tentatively, pulling you into him, and you look down, falling into him as your lips push into his.

♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡

part of winters of us, an advent calendar : day 009 prev

extremely late sry

comment or send an ask to be added to the taglist !

general @bucketofhiros @addictedtohobi @ariadores enhypen @cutesiepatootsie @sammm5225 @eupherbia

[delfiore]

—MY DEAREST FRIEND AND ENEMY. (1/5)

pairing: ona batlle x fem!reader

synopsis: you were ona’s biggest headache at man united, until you both move to barcelona.

word count: 3.7k

a/n: i’ve been watching the men’s game for years but i’ve finally sobered FINAL TODAY LET’S GO ENGLAND LET’S GO SPAIN (MOSTLY SPAIN)

PART II, PART III, PART IV, PART V

It started four years ago when Ona first signed for United. She didn’t notice at first the way you were always gunning for her, she was just doing her job.

But now, you were here in Barcelona with her. As she looked up at you, a soft smile on your face, everything she had buried in the past year all came rushing back.

Everyone was aware of the new signing from the States for her rival club just a couple of weeks before, a dragged-out saga of whether you were going to choose City or United. Unfortunately for her, you chose the Sky Blues.

If things had been different, maybe she wouldn’t have despised you as much as she did.

The first Manchester derby you played, she thought marking you would be easy until you dribbled past her several times to register a goal and assist. She must have been glowering at you when she walked back to the midfield line, because you shrugged before grinning at her, saying: “All in a day’s work.”

“Could I just ask what put Man City above all the other contenders for your signature?” “Well, I mean, it’s a great club with a great history, amazing players too. I’ve spoken at length with the new manager and he gave me a rough plan for next year’s project. So I’m really excited and confident that it’ll be a great destination for me.” “What do you say to the people who think you’ve chosen City for the money?” “People can think whatever they want to think. I’ll just play my game, and they can judge me all they want. It’s all anyone’s good for.” “You’ve just transferred from Portland, you’ve got an enormous price tag for the women’s game, tons of big clubs in Europe wanted you. There’s a mounting pressure on you, it seems. Do you think you’ll be up for the challenge of the Women’s Super League?” “It’s no fun if it’s not a challenge.”

Ona Batlle was what people considered a modern full-back, dangerous in attack just as she was solid in defense. But when playing against Man City, she usually has to stay back to avoid a dangerous winger finding their way into the box; you. It wasn’t her way of playing, and it frustrated her that that was what her role was while her team was struggling to create chances, especially when she knew she could help.

“I want you to stay back and mark Y/L/N. Whatever you do, do not let her out of your sight,” Casey had told her.

She hated you for caging her in, and the worst part was she wasn’t sure if she can stop you sometimes.

The night before her next game against you, she watched how you played the previous match, studied your movement carefully, and took notes. She liked that she had found a pattern. You liked to use your speed, but you also liked to taunt your defenders; a pace of prime Thierry Henry’s, and showboating tendencies like that of Neymar. It’s why you were so entertaining to watch, because every defender you faced ended up a sort of decoration to your parlor tricks, her included.

Ona never liked being second best to anybody, and certainly not to you.

And so when she was on the pitch, zeroing on you like a hawk, there was nothing stopping her from getting away from you. She didn’t need to resort to any risky challenges, she just needed to stick with you, keep you at arm’s length, and stay between you and the goal at all costs.

You may be a skilled player for your age, but controlling your temper is something you haven’t been able to achieve. She heard you cursing a few times, eventually earning you a yellow card when your insults were directed at the referee.

The ball had only left the City’s goalkeeper, Roebuck, yet she already felt you pushing back against her.

The game ended 3-1 for United, but she was secretly much happier that she had managed to piss you off so much, that you didn’t bother shaking hands with her afterwards.

“Congratulations, Ona. A huge victory for United. What do you think went well today?” “I think that our plans worked because we practiced and showed what we’re able to do. We didn’t have a lot of possession, but we focused on the counterattacks, and I think that definitely was a very effective tactic today.” “I have to ask you about Y/N Y/L/N. She’s been a formidable player in the league until now, and notoriously difficult to defend against, but she was practically silenced today on the left-hand side. Do you think you had something to do with that?” “I think what I’ve prepared in defense has worked out, for sure. I’ve also got my teammates to thank for covering the grounds for me. Y/L/N is a good player, and it’s always a joy to play against her.”

Her rivalry with you continued, and soon even the press was picking up on it. Manchester derbies now included Y/L/N v. Batlle, and everyone was predicting what crazy thing would happen next. It wasn’t common for defenders to make waves in the paper compared to superstar strikers or even midfielders unless they were linked with a big move. But soon Ona was reading about herself in the news, how she has defended Manchester United’s left wing with an iron grip, how they started calling her la matadora, for her ability to hold off forwards and tame them like bullfighters do.

One bull remained to be tamed though, and her conundrum continued into her second season at United.

Unlike her, you seemed to take the new breath of fame easily enough. Day in and day out, there were news of you scoring goals and bringing Man City to the top of the table by November.

You were born to be a star.

But Ona knew from shooting stars in the game that burned out too quickly; if you let what’s outside the pitch get to you, you might as well just leave it altogether. You might have been a good player, on your way to becoming a great one even, but you did have a flare for the dramatics which riled up the press quite a bit. If she was lucky, maybe the pressure would take you out of the game before she does.

International breaks were times she always look forward to, being able to represent her country. Even if they were friendly matches, she knew Spain was always being watched, as a team’s form was important on the world stage. The team would play two friendly matches, the first one being against Brazil and the other against the United States. Some friendly fixtures . . .

Brazil was a breeze, mainly because she wouldn’t have to face her biggest adversary. Naturally, you were called up to your national team, and the back-and-forth game persisted.

She had played against you many times at club level, but the way you played for your country was something else. There was more passion to the way you weave your way through defenders, more flare to your shots. It could also be the adrenaline of being called up for the first time, and wanting to prove yourself—she knew that feeling well.

It didn’t come as a surprise, then, that when a long ball was played over the defense line and Marta Cardona was on her way towards goal, you’d be there to strike her down right at the edge of the box. Her teammates appealed, and the referee paused the game, but all Ona saw was red. With a speed she didn’t know she had in her, she sprinted to you and shoved you away as you were bending down in a show of checking on Marta.

“What was that?! You could have broken her ankle, cabrona!”

“Watch it.”

You had never seen her so angry before—her jaw locked as she continued to hurl insults at you. If she wasn’t your mortal enemy maybe you could have found it attractive. So you pushed back, and soon both your teammates and hers crowded around you, trying to separate you. Kelley put her arm around your neck and walked away, telling you to “keep your cool, this is only a friendly”.

Never, you thought. Never while I’m playing against her.

You apologized to Marta eventually, and she was cool with it. “Heat of the moment”, she said, and you were grateful. You never meant to hurt anyone. Sometimes you just couldn’t control your adrenaline spike.

As expected, Ona didn’t even look at you after the match. So you went home with Marta.

The next morning at breakfast, Ona heard laughing from the girls surrounding Marta.

“How was your American late-night snack, Marta?” Leila laughed.

The girl only shook her head with a grin. “It was delicious, alright.”

Ona didn’t know what that twisted feeling in her gut was when she heard what Marta said, as she walked back to her hotel room after breakfast. She just knew that as long as she was alive, you were the most despicable person she knew.

ESPN: Y/L/N-Batlle Feud Continues, Bonmatí Controls Midfield in Spain-USWNT Clash “LOS ANGELES -- Thursday night saw a friendly match between Spain’s women's national team and the USWNT at the Snapdragon Stadium that ended in a 2-2 draw. Several debutants started for both teams, including Man City powerhouse Y/N Y/L/N. After a stunning cross into the box from the left for Mallory Pugh to tap in, a dangerous slide tackle on Marta Cardona ensured Y/L/N to be the heart of a confrontation between several players, including Ona Batlle. It seems their club rivalry persists as they were seen giving each other a very clear piece of their minds, and several clashes succeeded the Cardona tackle. It would have been a good performance for both if not for the slip of attitude. One thing is clear, though; the mentality is there, and it sure is entertaining to watch. […]”

The end of the season was fast approaching, and while you had become a thorn in her side, it came to a point in which she would not think about you until a week before a clash. This one in particular was crucial in the race for a Champions League spot that both Manchester clubs were vying for. She knew what it meant for the club to secure a UCL spot for the first time, and you were not about to ruin it for her.

Tooney and Millie invited her out for dinner the night before the derby, but she turned them down, opting for a quiet night in instead. After a few hours, however, she suddenly felt antsy, the anticipation before the game nipping at her. It was only 7pm when she checked and she decided to go for a run. She followed the familiar path she always takes to the nearby park, and she was glad she did because the sun was going down, leaving a glorious trail of orange in the sky. She loved these peaceful moments, away from adrenaline, away from the constant pressure, away from constantly having to push herself or she’d be called ‘lazy’.

A constant huffing sound appeared next to her, and when Ona looked down she saw an adorable corgi looking up at her while wagging its tail.

“Hello,” she bent down and pet the dog. Loving the attention, the little corgi jumped up in an attempt to lick her face, to which she let out a laugh.

“Bratwurst! Come back here!” She heard a voice call in the distance, which she assumed must have been the owner. “Sorry, he loves people.”

Ona looked up, and her face dropped. You did the same, standing frozen in front of her. Bratwurst was jumping up and down before you, probably excited that he received pets from someone else today.

She had never seen you in plain clothes before. You clearly knew how to dress yourself, because she might have admitted that you looked good if she didn’t hate you so much. But it was difficult to see you as anything else other than Y/N Y/L/N, Manchester City winger, and potentially Golden Boot winner this season by the looks of it.

And yet, she sat down on a nearby bench with you anyway, watching Bratwurst stick his butt in the air, attempting to catch a squirrel.

“I named him Bratwurst ‘cause he’s . . . long, you know?” You chuckled. ”Short form is Brat too, that’s kinda funny.”

In a sea of northern Englishmen, she never got to hear your American accent properly as she’d only heard you speak no more than two words to her, and most of the time they weren’t pleasant.

“How do you have time to own a dog?” She asked.

“He’s a foster. I just got him a couple of weeks ago.” You looked down at your fingers. “It’s nice to have him to come home to.”

The conversation died down, and suddenly Ona felt like this was a mistake. Maybe she should just leave, and continue her run. But she saw a different side to you—a gentler, quieter side unlike the boastful player she knew you as—and she wasn’t sure whether it was a good thing or not.

“Are you planning on adopting him permanently?”

“Maybe. I just want to make sure that I’m settled before making him move.”

You leaned back, placed your arm on the bench, and closed your eyes.

“You don’t want to stay in Manchester?”

“I don’t know yet. Why, would you be happy if I did?” You smirked, and she saw a glimpse of that player again.

Yes. “Your presence doesn’t bother me. It doesn’t bring me any joy either.”

“Just face it, Batlle.” You turned your body to her. “I get under your skin, don’t I?”

Ona blinked, her jaw clenching. “You don’t intimidate me, Y/L/N. You might be used to people bowing at your feet, but I won’t let you walk all over me. We will win tomorrow, and you might think to show some respect for others in the game.”

“Sorry, Batlle, can’t let you win. We’re playing Champions League next season.” You really enjoyed taunting her.

Ona huffed and stood up. As she walked away, she heard you call out to her. “See you on the pitch tomorrow, la matadora!”

There was nothing you could ever do to make yourself less hateful in her eyes.

It was matchday, kick-off time. Ona saw you on the other side of the midfield line. “Remember what you came here to do, and finish the job,” Marc had told them in the dressing room. He was right. She had a job to do, and she wasn’t about to let you ruin that for her.

They were to play with a high line today, which required Ona to stay near the midfield line and run back, should a forward slip through. About halfway through the first half, she had a startling realization; you were dropping back too, playing a number-10 role. It meant that she couldn’t do what she did last time you met, because there would be a gaping hole where she covers.

United was leading 1-0 by halftime, and while they had the advantage, the fight was far from over.

“Okay, ladies. Have a drink and take a seat,” Marc stood at the front of the dressing room. “We’re doing good, we’re holding them off. Keep up the pressure.”

Ona sat back to catch her breath. You were much more versatile than she thought, and maybe that was her mistake for underestimating you. It seemed too easy that you were giving her exactly what she wanted, playing high at the flank like she always does. There was more to it, but she needed to adapt.

Ona held your gaze for a moment across the field. You weren’t giving up. It seemed you were confident enough in whatever wicked plan you still had up your sleeve, that you sent her a smirk back.

It was the 70th minute of the game and they were so close to achieving it. Katie was looking for a pass, so Ona made herself available.

There was empty space near the side of the box, and she wanted to utilize it but it meant having to get past a couple of defenders.

“Vilde! 1, 2!” She called, passed the ball to her teammate, and started running. Her momentum was halted when Vilde’s ball was cut off and instantly launched forward.

The counterattack came so quickly, it must have been what you practiced. 1-1.

Suddenly, the tides have shifted. The momentum was with City. Time was running out, and the sudden goal disoriented her team. It took about five minutes for everyone to get their head back into the game, but Ona could tell City were used to having possession by then.

And then, in the 88th minute, you were given the ball from the left. Everyone except Alessia had dropped back to defend a series of dangerous balls up until now. You didn’t have anyone to pass to without getting intercepted, and you were outside of the box. So you took the shot. She watched helplessly as the ball flew past Mary into the top right corner.

1-2.

Ona’s body ran cold as she watched you celebrate with your teammates.

When the final whistle came shortly after, she collapsed on her knees.

Some of her teammates were there to console her, but she let their comfort pass through her. She needed to break something.

She needed to get away from everyone and found a spot near the bathrooms where she could catch her breath. Her boots were dangling from her hand by the laces. She slumped against a wall and began to cry, the boots clattering next to her on the floor.

It wasn’t that she was sad to have lost—she blamed herself for letting you get to her head. The interaction of the day before got her thinking what ifs. What if we didn’t meet under these circumstances? What if I could have just gotten to know you without wanting to rip your head off every time I see you?

You heard quiet sobs down the hallway and knew it was her. You had quickly gone into the tunnel when you didn’t see her anywhere on the pitch, but you certainly weren’t expecting to see her cry.

“Batlle?” You called.

She didn’t seem to notice you, sitting against the wall and wiping her face with her shirt.

“Hey, it’s okay.” That was a stupid thing to say considering you just beat her out of a Champions League spot, of course it’s not okay.

“I’m really not in the mood,” she said, looking away.

“You did good out there,” you said, watching her anxiously.

“Don’t act like you care,” she sniffled. “You got what you wanted.”

“I’m not as heartless as you think, Ona.” You quipped back. “I’m not sorry that we won, but I am sorry that you’re hurt.”

“Why are you doing this to me?” She sobbed and glared at you. It sent a chill down your bones. “I wish we had never met.”

How do you tell her that you never meant for things to go this way? That every word you had ever said to her didn’t stem from malice but from fear? You had wished to push her away so that you don’t collide with her head-on. How do you tell her that no matter how hard you tried, you still gravitated toward her?

“I’m sorry.” You repeated, like a fool.

She was hurting because of you.

You snuck a glance at the form of the girl in front of you, like you would be penalized if you were caught looking at her. You took a step back to go, but she held onto your arm and pulled your body against her.

You had been fantasizing about having your mouth against her for months, usually in absurd circumstances, like you two making out in a bed of roses or you giving her a kiss after she, a masked superhero, saved you from danger. Never like this, muscles aching, sweat coating your foreheads, wearing your respective uniforms—being so you doing this.

You wanted to enjoy it. Her lips were soft and salty, and she might have secured you by the waist against her. Your knees trembled as you sighed into her lips, pushing her against the wall gently. Your hesitancy soon turned into hunger, as you pressed your body into hers, desperate to feel her.

Murmurs in the distance snapped you out of it. “Where’s Ona?” You made out one of the voices saying.

You looked back at her, your faces just inches away. You never noticed, but she had so many beautiful freckles adorning her face.

“Ona—“ You said, but she quickly picked up her boots and left towards the voices.

Chest heaving and head spinning, you slumped against the wall with a small grin, bringing your fingers up to touch your lips where she had been.

“Where have you been?” Keira asked in the dressing room, but you just shook your head.

“Just to the bathroom.”

Sky Sports: Man City’s Talisman Y/N Y/L/N Nets Stunning Late Goal Against Man United To Secure UWCL Spot […]

a/n: this gif is so y/n and ona coded

[ghoststyles]

Fairway to Heaven - Part 1

Hi!! I’m so excited to post my first-ever Harry fic! I’ve been on 1D Tumblr since the very beginning, logged off for 5 years and now I’m back 💀 So I’ve had a lot of ideas over the years that have just lived in my head. GOLFRRY + MUSTACHRRY are my weaknesses, so this is my twist on a golf/bev cart girl + agegap fic 🤩

I’d love to hear your thoughts. I have most of the story written, so I should be able to have a consistent posting schedule. Not sure the total # of parts quite yet. I’m also happy to write additional blurbs if y’all like Harry and Briar as much as I do 🥹🐥🦊 

Here is a mood board I put together. Feel free to picture Briar however you please. The mood board is just to set the vibez!

Without further ado...Enjoy!

~

Word count: 4.5K

Contains mature themes. Read at your own discretion. Agegaps, cursing.

Read Part 2 | Read Part 3 | Read Part 4

~

By the time she gets to her designated cart, she’s already fifteen minutes late; but her iced coffee is the perfect color, and her hair didn’t give her too much trouble this morning. A win is a win.

Briar Barlowe quickly dumps a bucket of ice in her cart’s side cooler as the bar back begins filling the bin with the usual suspects: Bud Light, Michelob Ultra, Fireball, Tito’s, Casamigos, Ginger ale, and, of course, grape juice. She makes sure to keep her lavender cups stocked and plenty of fun straws to make everything more fun. She even decorates her tip jars to say funny jokes.

Since starting at Wynnewood Country Club, Briar has gained a bit of notoriety among the players as the girl with a bright smile and a heavy pour. This job is exactly what she needs to fill the gap between graduating college and beginning her business degree in the fall. Good money, stress-free responsibilities, and time spent in the sunshine.

Her Uncle, Patrick Barlowe, is the golf pro at Wynnewood; a local legend who was just shy of making the PGA Tour himself. He spends his days teaching lessons, running the pro shop and serving on the Board of Directors for the club. If you’re in with Patrick, you’re in with everyone.

When he heard her worries of not finding a summer job after graduation, it was a no brainer to offer her a position as a beverage cart girl. They both gaze out over the course from a table under the gazebo on the top deck of the club’s restaurant.

“That job sounds a little sexist, Uncle Patrick,” Briar sneers. All she can picture is driving around in a little dress and a visor like Malibu Barbie, answering the male members’ every beck and call.

The club is gorgeous; first built in 1914, and the architecture reflects it. It has two golf courses, 4 tennis courts, a pool, and deluxe spa. The member fees skyrocket each year, upping the amenities and overall snootiness of the members.

“The money is good and the members are pretty harmless. From the way you’ve swindled me into throwing teddy bear tea parties, I think you’ll do just fine on the sales aspect.”

“Fine. When do I start?”

Patrick leans back in his seat, “I’ll call Dominic in the morning.”

With that, they finish their drinks and appetizers just as the sun sets.

Walking out to her car, she sees a black Range Rover pull under the carport. The boys at the valet stand are already bickering over who gets to drive this one.

Based on the surrounding town, the level of pretentiousness at the club never surprises Briar. The yearly member fee for the club can cover 2 years’ worth of her business school tuition alone. She shakes her head and jumps into her hand-me down Jeep to head back to her apartment, paying no mind to the man entering the front door of the club.

~

Her shift this morning started out in the frigid cold, forcing her to change outfits later in the day as the sun came out. She’s sporting her black athletic skort and a racerback tank top. She opts to leave her hair down and sport her black and white Nike trailblazers to keep the look casual.

With a few weeks’ worth of shifts under her belt, she’s learned the ways of the club and fallen into a good rhythm. On any given weekend day, she has to head to the clubhouse to restock twice before 12PM. Today is not one of those days.

As temperature warms up, the course begins to fill up. In the last hour of her shift, she’s left with only a few beers and a few shots worth of Tito’s. Her tip jar is a little emptier than usual, but the pun on her sign got a few chuckles. She sets up shop on the 17th hole and snaps a few photos of the sunset.

“I shot one under today. One under a tree, one under a bush, and one under the water.”

Briar jumps at the voice behind her. Is that an Irish accent? She leans to peer over the side of her cart. She sees a man, older than her, donning a light blue polo with dark blue pants and a white hat, reading the joke on her jar.

“Clever, isn’t it?” She smiles kindly at him.

“Hilarious. It’s like ya been watching my game today,” he laughs. He moves closer to where she’s standing.

“Can I get you anything? I’ll be honest, I’m mostly wiped out.”

He peers down at the contents of the cooler. “I’ll take that last Mich Ultra. Do you have any Casamigos left? My mate is a little picky.”

“No Casamigos,” she says with a slight frown. “I’ll try to keep my drinking to a minimum next time and save you some.”

He lets out a loud laugh and squeezes his eyes shut. “Alright, just this then. He’ll have to deal with it.”

“I can offer you some Peanut M&M’s for your troubles,” she says, pulling out her iPad to ring in the order. “Do you have an account with the club, or do you want to pay cash?”

“The account is under Niall Horan,” he says, putting a $20 bill in the jar. “Thanks for the M&M’s, darlin’.”

“I’m Briar. It was nice meeting you, Niall. Thank you!” She beams. He smiles and starts heading back to the path toward the clubhouse.

~

After cleaning her cart and counting her money, Briar finishes the day drinking a mojito at the bar, while Cam, her new friend at the club, is working her bar shift.

“How was it out there today, babe?” Cam asks.

“Slow at first, but it definitely picked up. I couldn’t even head back for a restock. Luckily, the members I got at the very end weren’t picky.”

“Oh! Did you see Niall?” she asks as she puts glassware in the dishwasher.

“Yeah,” Briar furrows her brows. “How did you know?”

“I used to serve him on the front course all the time. Now that I’m too old and wretched to work out on the course, he’ll visit me in here sometimes. He mentioned playing the back course with a friend today.”

Briar is always assigned to the back course. There are only minor differences in difficulty, but she finds the back course to be a little more calm and serious. They’re also a little more generous with their tips. She’s not sure if her assignment has something to do with her uncle’s knowledge of the club’s inner workings.

“He is really nice, and generous. I didn’t get to meet the friend, though. Did you?”

“Yes, he was a little more reserved. But Niall is a riot, so he makes anyone look calm. I didn’t catch his name.”

Briar hums and stirs her mojito around as she stifles a yawn. “Well, I’ve been here since 7:30 this morning, so I am ready to goooo,” she drags out her last word. She waves bye to Cam and begins the trek to the employee parking lot.

As she’s walking, she gazes up to the upper deck of the restaurant where she can just barely make out Niall standing by the railing. He’s talking animatedly and waving his beer bottle around.

A bit off to the right, peering down at her, is a tall, striking man with dark features wearing a white button down and a sport coat. The top two buttons are undone just enough to see his collarbones.

The club has a strict dress code for the restaurant. Briar often does a double take when she sees members out of their golf clothes. She wonders if he’s even allowed to show that much skin.

Shrugging it off, she continues toward her car, but not without looking back at the man. He’s still looking at her, curiously, taking a sip of his drink and turning away not long after she looks up.

She can’t help but get this strange feeling, almost as if the hairs on the back of her neck are standing straight up.

~

As the summer starts to heat up, so do her shifts at the course. By the end of them, Briar’s hair is sticking out sideways and her make up is smeared down her face. She bought a miniature fan that clips right to the visor of her cart to keep her cool throughout the day.

It’s just past 8:30 in the morning on Tuesday when she hears a familiar voice on the 8th hole. She squints and sees Niall, along with the dark haired man from the other night. There are a few guys she doesn’t recognize standing with them.

She maneuvers her cart through the winding path, closer to where the men are.

“There’s the beer angel!” Niall shouts. She smiles and shakes her head. He comes jogging over. “I hope you’re fully stocked this morning.”

“Yep, I am! I even have a few breakfast sandwiches, if you’re interested.”

His eyes light up as she pulls out a bacon, egg and cheese on an everything bagel from the warming drawer. Chef Lambo, the executive chef of the club, made them especially for Briar’s customers.

“Yesss. I’ll take one of those, a Mich Ultra, two Transfusions, and — H! What do you want?” He yells, partially turning to face his friend in the distance.

She faintly hears, “Casamigos!”

“And a Casamigos on the rocks, with a lime,” he finishes. It takes her only a few minutes to make the cocktails.

“Do you want these on your account?” Briar asks Niall.

He takes a huge bite of the bagel and mumbles, “No, you can put it all on my mate’s. Last name is Styles.”

Styles, or, “H” as Niall called him. The mystery man’s Last name is Styles. And, he’s a member here.

“Got it. Well, good luck today.”

“Thanks, we’ll need it. We’re trying to close a work deal with the two guys we’re playing with. Hey, don’t be afraid to swing by us multiple times. We can use all the schmoozing we can get,” he smiles.

“I think I can do that. Let me know if you need help, I’m told I’m very persuasive,” she smiles as she takes the emergency brake off of her cart. He throws another $20 in her jar and then waves, nearly dropping all of the items in his hands.

Niall returns to his group, handing out their drinks. Briar continues to watch before pulling away. H steps out from behind Niall, slightly lifting his cup — his lavender cup — towards her, as a thank you. His facial expression is stoic, watching her carefully.

She smiles to herself and drives off. The rest of the shift goes by in a blur. She swings by Niall and H’s group a few times. Each time, Niall greets her to grab more drinks and snacks.

Is that on purpose? If the drinks are on H’s account, why isn’t he coming over? She’d like to get a closer look at him. She chews on the inside of her lip and continues on with her closing duties. She loves the morning shift; in early, out early.

~

After parking her cart in the garage, she can see her uncle in the pro shop, glasses on the tip of his nose, peering down at something. She lightly knocks on the door and pushes it open.

“Hey, Briar bear,” he says, looking up at her. “How was your day?”

Briar sighs at her childhood nickname, plopping down on the couch by the practice putting green. Members can test out clubs before purchasing them in the pro shop, making it an optimal spot to hang out and mess around with all of the clubs.

“It was good, I just have to get used to waking up this early again. And I already know you’re going to say, ‘welcome to the real world, kid’, so just stop there,” she says sassily.

Patrick chuckles and focuses back on with his paperwork. They’re quiet for a few moments.

“What’re working on, anyway?” she asks, craning her neck to see what he’s doing.

“Just some budget sheets, and making a list of members who haven’t had a lesson from their amazing in-house golf pro,” he says, punching numbers into his phone calculator.

“They get a free lesson from you?”

“Yes, when they join. But now, to keep up member retention, we’re going to offer sessions to members who have been here for 5 years or more,” he scratches his temple. “Most of ‘em don’t need it, but I feel they always leave with a new drill to practice and some sage advice from yours truly.”

“That’s cool,” she replies absently.

“Wanna help?” Patrick asks her. She nods silently and takes a seat beside him. She sees a list of last names, first initial and  an “X” next to their name if they’ve taken a lesson.

She notices an X next to “Horan, N.” but not “Styles, H”. Interesting.

Briar continues to audit the two lists, until she hears her uncle clear his throat.

“Hey, are you going to hang here for a bit? I need to run back into the main clubhouse for a few minutes.”

Patrick runs the pro shop solo during the day, until a high school or college kid can come in in the afternoon.

“Yeah, I’ll hang here. What do I do if someone needs something?”

“Then you can entertain them with your dazzling personality until I get back,” he teases, sticking his tongue out. “Alright, I’ll be back.”

“‘kay,” she says, walking back to her original spot on the sofa, laying her head back on the edge.

Her eyes are shut, only for a minute, until a brilliant idea pops in her head. She rises off the sofa and saunters over to the computer her uncle was just working on.

The employee portal is logged in under Patrick’s account. Briar doesn’t know much about it, aside from using it to clock in and clock out. It’s still on the member screen, an area she’s 100% sure she doesn’t have access to.

She peruses the site until she finds a “Member Look-Up” tab. Briar’s intrusive thoughts win.

She slowly punches in S-T-Y-L-E-S and waits for the results to populate. 2 results found.

She clicks on the first profile. An account pulls up for a Paul Styles, and a photo of a white-haired man pops up.

Well, that’s certainly not him, Briar thinks to herself. She exits out and clicks on the next account. No profile photo opens, but the name is at the top. She bites her thumbnail in anticipation of what she’ll see.

Harry Styles. H. Niall’s mysterious friend. The tequila lover.

She starts to scroll down the page. The profile is more bare than the other man’s, but she can see the basic things about him. He’s 41, joined the club 8 years ago. He lives in another pretentious town only a few miles away.

Then, she sees a “Member Activity” tab. Out of curiosity, she clicks on it. Her eyes widen, seeing every transaction he’s ever made on his account. His “dues” each year. Holy shit.

His purchases seem pretty standard for members of Wynnewood. Mostly rounds of Casamigos on the rocks (shocking) and dinners ranging from $100-$400, with a few bills over $1,000.

He joined 8 years ago, but his transactions have only begun to pick up in the last month or so. Before, his visits were sporadic at best.

Briar can’t even fathom having that sort of money to throw away. She started working at age 14 and never stopped. The only reason she gets a taste of country club life is because of her uncle.

She closes out the portal, not wanting to risk Patrick walking in while she’s snooping around. She returns to her spot on the sofa and begins playing 1010! on her phone.

She exhales and tosses her phone to the side. As she sits up, Patrick reenters the pro shop.

“Thanks, Bri. Heading home soon?”

“Yeah, I gotta get back home for Gus,” she smiles, thinking about her dog. Her baby.

“Alright, I’ll catch you later. Say hello to my buddy for me. And give him a butt scratch — Tell him it’s from Uncle Patty.”

“Will do. See ya.”

~

When she’s showered and comfy at home, with Gus, her Bernese Mountain Dog, snuggled at her side, she finally feels relaxed. 

She’s worked nearly every day since she started. But, those are the sacrifices of a summer job.

She turns on Selling Sunset on Netflix to drown out the silence of her apartment. Already bored of this season, she pulls out her phone.

One last round of stalking, then she’ll let it go. She opens Instagram and begins typing in Harry’s name in the search bar. Nothing. Hm.

She tries Niall, immediately getting a hit. She clicks on his account to find it public, full of funny and happy photos. He’s clearly from Ireland, but has lived in the United States for some time. She wonders if he went to school here, or if he just got a job here.

She scrolls down to a group photo — on the golf course, of course — of Niall, Harry, and a few other guys. They look a lot younger here. She can see the photo is from 7 years ago. Harry’s stoic face is a stark contrast to Niall’s infectious smile. She clicks on the photo to see if Harry’s profile is tagged. Nothing.

Defeated, she moves onto LinkedIn. She tries Harry’s name again. Within 10 seconds of the search engine results popping up on the screen, her eyes land on exactly what she’s looking for. He has a profile. Her heart starts beating a little faster.

Really, Briar? All this for a guy you’ve barely caught a glimpse of? She clicks on the profile and sees the most gorgeous man at the top. He looked good from afar, but this is totally different.

Sticking out to her is his chiseled jaw, pouty lips, and beautiful (green?) eyes. His hair is longer in this photo than what she’s seen him with the past 2 times at the club, but she figures this page is old.

She scrolls down to the employment history. He works for a hedge fund. No wonder he has that kind of cash laying around. He’s been at the same company for a number of years, and received his bachelor’s degree from Georgetown and his MBA from the University of Pennsylvania. Smart dude. 

She notes his MBA graduation year is 2006. She laughs, knowing she was probably still playing on a playground that year. 

She exits out of the page, proud of her findings. She decides to text Cam about Niall’s friend.

B: Hey! So I totally stalked Niall online. His friend’s name is Harry! 😆

C: So funny, how’d u do it? 😂

B: Instagram for Niall, and earlier, I used Wynnewood’s portal to look up Harry. I just went on his LinkedIn, too. Now, I know all about his work and schooling, lol.

C: Your account is private, right? 😳

C: It notifies people if you’ve looked at their profile unless you’re private…

B: What?! I didn’t know that…WTF do I do?

Briar’s stomach drops. He’s probably already gotten the notification by now. She’s mortified. She logs back on to LinkedIn and deactivates her account. Reddit says those are her best chances of counteracting the notification.

She decides to go to bed, but ends up tossing and turning until 3 AM, knowing her alarm is set for 6:30. She stares at the ceiling, pleading for Harry not to show up at the club tomorrow.

~

The morning comes around, and after mustering enough courage to get up and make herself presentable, she rolls into work, ready to jump on her cart and be lazy. The universe (or Uncle Patrick, probably!) has a different plan.

Since it’s a holiday weekend, Briar is working inside for a change. She feels a little out of her element. She’s worked in restaurants in the past, but it’s always a little stressful when you have know idea where anything is, or how to use the register.

Taking a moment to survey the large banquet room, she doesn’t see Niall or Harry. She begins to relax. Until, 30 minutes later, she sees both of them enter and begin talking to the hostess.

Please don’t go to my section, she thinks. She watches the girl gathers 4 menus and turns to lead the men further into the room. Briar’s worry grows more with each step the hostess takes toward her section. Fuck.

She seats them down at a 4 person table right in the middle of Briar’s section, assuming the two men from yesterday will be joining them.

She takes a few deep breaths before grabbing a water jug and two stemmed water glasses. She casually approaches the table, lightly placing the water glasses down and filling them.

Niall looks up briefly with a smile before exclaiming, “There she is! I requested you to be our server after I saw you at the coffee machine over there.”

Briar smiles before turning her attention to Harry, who hasn’t glanced up from his menu. She looks back at Niall.

“Awesome! This is going to be great,” she lies through her teeth.

While this exchange is happening, she can feel Cam’s eyes burning through the back of her head. Cam is the service bartender of the day, so she has time to people watch and laugh at Briar’s bad luck.

“Are we waiting for any more guests to join us?” Briar asks.

Niall clears his throat and says, “Yes, those two blokes from yesterday. Harry here is going to close the deal with them today.”

Harry glances up at her with a shy smile. She reciprocates, unsure if he’s aware of her cyberstalking from last night.

“Wow, well, I’ll make sure my service is extra good, then. Can I throw in some drinks while you wait?”

“I’ll have an Old Fashioned. Harry?” Niall turns to his friend.

“Casamigos on the rocks for me, please. With a lime. Thank you.”

“You got it,” she says with a tight-lipped smile. Of course that’s the very first thing he ever says to her. And he’s BRITISH?

Cam laughs as the ticket prints at the bar.

“Oh, shut up,” Briar grumbles.

~

The other men finally arrive, and the meal goes by at a snail’s pace. When the group is finally ready to order, Briar is already mentally checked out. Briar goes to take Harry’s order.

“What can I get for you?”

“I’ll have the chicken, please,” he says simply.

“And how would you like that cooked?” Briar asks, furiously scribbling on her note pad.

Harry’s face contorts to a perplexed look, almost as if he was about to laugh.

“Um…cooked…all the way through?” He stifles a chuckle.

Niall bursts out laughing, cluing Briar in. She realizes the others ordered porterhouse steaks, so, out of habit, she asked how they’d like them prepared.

Her eyes go wide, “Right, well, I’ll go put these in. Thanks!” She shuffles away at lightning speed.

Harry stares at her from across the room, smirking when they make eye contact. She wants to bury her head in the sand trap on the golf course.

When the meal is done, the men shake hands, and Niall and Harry look relieved. They ask for another round of drinks for the two of them and the check. Niall heads toward the restroom while Harry pays. She tries to bolt as soon as the check is dropped, but she hears Harry clear his throat.

She turns to face him.

“We’re about to go play a quick round of 9-holes to celebrate. Are you our beer angel today, or are you stuck in here?” Harry says, as he opens his wallet.

Briar feels her heart begin to race. She’s sure her face is beet red. The word angel rolls off his tongue so easily.

“Um, no, I’m um, stuck in here for the rest of the day. I’ll be back on Sunday, though,” she says quietly.

“Shame, I was starting to think you were bringing me all of my luck. I’ve been crushing these guys in our last few rounds,” he smiles, swirling the remnants of his drink around.

She bites the inside of her lip, unsure if she should still be holding eye contact. He hands her the checkbook, full of cash. She smiles, unable to speak.

“Oh, and Briar— I’m an open book. If you wanted to know more about me, you could’ve just asked,” he says with a sickeningly sweet smile.

That’s the moment Niall returns to the table, and presumably the only reason she doesn’t drop to the floor in fetal position.

“Thanks, Briar. Lunch was great. We’ll see you next time,” Niall says sweetly.

“Thanks!” she squeaks, scurrying to the back, where she nearly mows down Cam.

“Woah! What’re you doing?” Cam squeals.

“He KNOWS!” Briar wails.

“Who? Who knows — OH!” Cam shrieks. “What did he say to you?”

“He said, ‘Briar, I’m an open book. If you wanted to know more about me, you could’ve just asked.’”

Cam’s mouth drops open. “Did he say it with his sexy accent and sultry voice?”

“Shut up!”

“Fine. Well, what did he tip you?” she asks, reaching for the book in Briar’s hand.

She opens it, finding enough cash to cover the $450 tab, and an extra $300 as a tip.

“Damn! Who has that much cash at one time?” Cam laughs.

Briar flips to the back of the book, only to find a note on a small piece of paper:

I’m an Aquarius, in case you were wondering. : - )

She stares blankly at the note. When did he have time to do this? Was he going to slip this note to her regardless? A million thoughts run through her head, until she hears Cam.

“What a creepy-ass old person smiley face,” she says, shaking her head.

Briar thinks it’s the cutest thing in the world.

~

Finally, her shift ends and she can escape the club, just for a day. As she heads towards the women’s locker room, she’s rummaging through her bag, attempting to fish out her street clothes so she can change as quickly as possible.

As she stalks closer to the locker room, she collides head-first into a firm, wet object. She feels strong hands grasp her hips to steady her.

“What the fuck?” she says, moving the hair out of her eyes, only to be met with a strong tattooed torso, partially covered by towel tied loosely around the person’s waist.

Her next words die in her throat as she looks up.

Harry.

Harry, who just left the steam room.

He smirks down at her, gently letting go of her waist. Suddenly, she feels hot, as if she were just in there with him. Briar’s fight or flight kicked-in, causing her to spin on her heels and flee in the opposite direction. 

He senses she’d run, so he gently grabs her wrist, locking her in place. She peers up at him like a deer in headlights. His other hand is firmly planted on his hip to hold up his towel, in fear of giving the whole club a show.

He tilts her chin up so she’s making direct eye contact. Her stomach drops, sending a wave of nausea through her body. She studies his face; long eye lashes, slight stubble and two dimples that form as he smirks down at her softly.

“I told you, I’m not shy.”

He releases her chin and saunters back to the mens’ locker room.

[boydepartment]

boring, draining, tedious, company party- lee heeseung

a/n: whoops…….. sorry i have heeseung brain rot </3 anyways

warnings: it can be non-idol or idol au it doesn’t really specify much, it’s fluff, heeseung is kinda a loser but is very quick on his feet. he pretty much rizzes you up at the company christmas party. lowercase intended… reader is fem

wc- 250-500

MASTERLIST

you sat at the very corner of the christmas party. it was apparently something the company did every year. something that was required which was something you weren’t used to.

i mean who in the right mind makes a company christmas party mandatory?

you looked down at your jewelry clad hands and messed with a couple of the rings. you were bored and absolutely famished for something. well… not really. there was just nothing to do!

they didn’t even have the appetizers out or party food. so it’s not like you could have some food anyways! they only had alcohol which you didn’t want to touch. at least for right now.

as you messed with your rings you saw two fancy shoes enter your peripheral.

your eyes slowly made their way up to the face of the man who decided to come up to you.

lee heeseung

he worked in a different department than you. so you didn’t see him around often but the women talked about him a lot. you’ve spoken to him a few times in meetings.

“can i help you?” you asked, trying not to sound stuck up. it’s not like he was doing anything wrong yet.

“you just looked lonely so i wanted to…- i don’t know.” heeseung was cringing at his words, you found it endearing how nervous he was. you could tell because he wouldn’t stop moving.

“the company party is a little boring.” your eyes glazed over the crowd.

heeseung was still looking at you, “has it been? i’ve been pretty preoccupied.”

you scoffed, yeah no shit. every other woman in your department wanted to talk to heeseung. they flocked to him like seagulls to a picnic at a beach.

“what? did i say something wrong?” he turned his head in confusion, doe eyes studying yours. you could tell why everyone wanted him. he was very handsome and respectful. plus he worked hard in the company.

“you didn’t say anything wrong…” your voice softened, god what was in the air today?

“i think the decorations are nice.” he smiled and rocked on the balls of his feet, hands in his pockets,

you looked around, “i like the festive lights.” heeseung looked down at you.

“i do too… do you want to walk around and look at them with me?”

you were taken aback by him being forward, however, it didn’t stop you from taking his hand and letting him lead you outside.

the city was good about decorating the trees with lights, even some stores decorated with festive colors. you couldn’t help but look at them in awe. only breaking out of the moth like trance when heeseung started laughing.

“what?” you were still speaking softly.

“i just find it cute you ditched a company party for me.”

your jaw went slack before you gained composure, “it’s not like i was doing anything at the party anyways.”

heeseung wouldn’t stop laughing, “trust me i know, i was keeping an eye on you.”

your brows furrowed, “why is that?”

“because you’re pretty.”

you felt your face heat up and you shoved him lightly, almost sending him into a light decorated bush. you tried to figure out a quip or something to say back.

but you were speechless.

“was i too forward again?” heeseung asked, stepping closer to you.

where did the dorky loser go?

you shook your head no and he took off his jacket and put it on you.

“so you don’t catch cold.” he mumbled and took his hat out of his pocket aswell to place on your head.

“thank you…” you mumbled as heeseung adjusted the beanie on your head accordingly.

“you’re cute when you’re flustered.” he spoke under his breath.

you tried not to look away from him, because you were flustered and nervous and you didn’t want him seeing really how much he was effecting you.

“ready to keep walking?” heeseung asked, “or we could go back to that boring, tedious, draining, com-“

“just keep going!” you quickly started walking, heels clinking on the concrete. heeseung laughed and jogged back up to you, he placed his hand lightly on your waist and held you close.

this was definitely better than the boring, tedious, draining, company party.

[piosplayhouse]

Ayo thank you for your contribution to society and world culture through the SVSSS iceberg, now if you don’t mind can you please explain it? I’ve been in the fandom a while but I swear I’ve never heard of some of these

Sure! Explanations will be sorted under the cut:

SHEN YUAN TIER:

- all items in this tier are either surface level details from the source material or

- daily bingpup is a popular fandom meme (used in the metal gear sense lmfao) started by @ kamkamquats on Twitter that's pretty self explanatory: kam draws and posts a bingpup picture every day! The archive is available here.

I probably should have made this point just bingpup, as I believe his origins precede kam's art, but she certainly boosted his popularity significantly, and now her art and bingpup are canonized with the publishing of the 4th volume English translation of the novel, so I thought it was a fun point!

LUO BINGHE TIER:

- Feynite's au collection: an extremely popular collection of alternate universe fics written by legendary Scum Villain fic author Feynite.

- Scum Villain is a tragedy: an interpretation of the books that poses that from every other perspective besides Shen Yuan's, Scum Villain is an incredibly depressing tragedy.

- Luo Binghe is Airplane's self insert: "Don't asky why Luo Binghe wasn't the embodiment of [Airplane's] ideal man; Luo Binghe's use had primarily been to fulfill his desire to be a badass and get revenge, as well as his desire for wanton [this section has been censored]" (The Scum Villain's Self-Saving System volume 4, page 163).

- Shen Yuan died on his birthday: Shen Yuan's death date is never given in the original novels, but in the first scene of the donghua when he dies while at his computer, you can catch a glimpse at the date reading September 21st (both his birthday and the day svsss was published!)

- Shen Qingqiu's canon fursona: binghe compares sqq to a crane multiple times in the story but is depicted as a cat in fandom much more frequently, leading people to joke about how the fandom disregards his "canon" fursona in the same way bingpup is much more prevalent than sheep binghe.

- Shen Qingqiu can knit: there's official crossover Christmas merchandise that shows all of the mxtx couples participating in different holiday activities: wangxian are decorating a tree, hualian are baking cookies, and shen qingqiu is knitting a scarf for luo binghe.

- Luo Binghe's birthday: Luo Binghe is actually the only main mxtx character that doesn't have a canon birthday. He's noted in the books as being born on "the coldest days of the year", but it's debatable whether this is late December or early January, and there's no specific date from this that we can confirm is his birthday.

- sv manhua's indefinite hiatus: much to the excitement of starved fans, a Scum Villain manhua began publishing in 2019. It ran for a grand total of 3 wonderful weeks before being unceremoniously put on indefinite hiatus because of drama within the fanbase stemming from rumors that the artist/company drawing it actually hated scum villain. It has yet to return.

SHEN JIU TIER:

- Moshang's horrible first time: MXTX stated in a Q&A interview that neither Mobei-Jun nor Shang Qinghua enjoyed their first time having sex together.

- Shen Qingqiu invented maxi pads: the "scum villain pad commercial" is a commercial from the first season of the donghua depicting an exchange where Ning Yingying is self conscious about going out on her period because her sanitary supplies aren't cute, so Shen Qingqiu magics her up some maxi pads.

- Shen Yuan read mpreg yaoi: "#18 Peerless Cucumber [Expert]: Upthread, keep cool. This forum has a lot of Green JJ sisters 😎" (The Scum Villain's Self-Saving System volume 4, page 145). / "''Great Master' Liu! Airplane Shooting Towards the Sky didn't write a green Jinjiang mpreg novel!'" (The Scum Villain's Self-Saving System volume 4, page 295).

- Shen Jiu transmigrated into Shen Yuan: A somewhat popular theory in the fandom that when Shen Jiu died, he transmigrated into modern day Shen Yuan the same way Shen Yuan did to him.

- Cursed monkey island: Cursed monkey island is/was a private discord server made up of very og sv fans that was known for outputting somewhat dark/off-color/weird fics for each other, often with funny porn spoof names and niche concepts. The first fics from there were published in 2018, while the last fic in the collection seems to have been published in 2022, so they might still be active, but I'm not sure.

- Moshang has a 20 year age difference: Shang Qinghua died at at least age 20 (probably older) and since he transmigrated into a baby, he has 20 extra years of consciousness from his first life on the PIDW native characters, who he meets when they're both teenagers in the Airplane extras. Though physically the same age group, he would've been mentally somewhere around 30-40 years old at this point getting bullied by teenagers.

- The microwave: some of the first previews released for the donghua were static turnaround videos of the 3D models set to elevator music -- after these dropped, it was radio silence on the show's status for a long, long time. Fans called these previews "the microwave" because of the static rotation of the models and referred to the time it took for the donghua to come out as "defrosting it in the microwave". There's a fair amount of art/memes from this time period featuring the characters literally inside microwaves, even to the point where people made microwave-themed SV merch. When the donghua finally came out bingqiu were declared "free from the microwave" and a wave of fanart of them destroying microwave prisons emerged.

TIANLANG JUN TIER:

- Wangxian have read resentment of chunshan: in the mdzs audio drama extra episode "Accompanying you to sleep - Lan Wangji", Lan Wangji takes care of a drunk Wei Wuxian by getting him ready for bed. Towards the end of the episode, Wei Wuxian asks Lan Wangji to read him a bedtime story. Lan Wangji says he isn't good at telling stories and Wei Wuxian suggest he reads him The Resentment of Chunshan (bingqiu fanfiction). Unfortunately, Lan Wangji had never heard of it before and thereby could not ASMR it.

- Six Balls x Zhuzhi Lang: a rarepair (also called bamboo balls) written by the lovely Alex here.

- Shen Qingqiu has the protagonist halo: a theory/headcanon suggesting that when Shen Yuan transmigrated, the role of protagonist and subsequent protagonist halo left Luo Binghe and transferred onto him. Often used in angst canon divergences wherein due to the lack of a protagonist halo, Binghe dies from an event he otherwise would have survived because of his story invulnerability.

- Shen Yuan's sister found his dead body: an angst headcanon centering around the idea that Shen Yuan's sister found his dead body rotting in his apartment after he died- very good art made about this here!! (Gore/blood cw)

- Who is zhuzhi lang's dad: we all know zhuzhi-lang's dad was a big snake but what kind of big snake? How big? Why did his mom fuck him? all important questions heavily debated about in this fandom.

MOBEI JUN TIER:

- Every ship is cumplane: we already know Luo Binghe is Airplane's self insert, and Mobei-Jun's cold demeanor is somewhat reminiscent of Peerless Cucumber's tsundere wife-isms, making bingqiu and moshang arguable proto-cumplanes. However, we can go further and argue because Airplane created the entire world of PIDW, all of it in a way reflects him and his feelings, therefore meaning that because it loves Shen Qingqiu and Shen Qingqiu loves it back, every possible PIDW asset x sqq is cumplane in its basest form.

- Original donghua designs: the first pv for the donghua actually featured slightly different designs for bingqiu, which were then changed later in production! You can see the original ones here.

- PIDW is real: someone actually posted PIDW on jjwxc so you can get the real Shen Yuan experience.

SHANG QINGHUA TIER:

- Shen Yuan penetrated into the body of the scum villain: there is a listing for the svsss donghua on Amazon prime video (though no episodes are actually available) which features this banger summary:

 An ordinary youth, Shen Yuan, after reading the novel "Arrogant Gods and Demons' Journey", triggers the mysterious system so that he crosses into the book world and penetrates into the body of villain--Shen Qingqiu. Shen Qingqiu's disciple, Luo Binghe, is the main character of the novel.

- Airplane's foot fetish:

[pennylanefics]

Spirit - Seth Jarvis

a/n: this one gets a little angsty for a moment bc insecure and scared jarvy hurts my heart and i need it more in my life. anyways enjoy as always <3

summary: you and seth decorate his place for halloween

word count: ~1.8k

“Absolutely not,” Seth grumbles, crossing his arms over his chest. You sigh and cross your own arms, copying him in a grumpy manner.

“Why not?”

“Because it’s one night. Why decorate the entire house and porch for one day?”

“Halloween is the entire month of October, Jarvy, for your information. Everyone knows that. Plus it’ll be a fun little bonding moment, don’t you think?”

You were trying to convince Seth to let you decorate his house for Halloween, as it is a few days into October and you were really getting into the spirit already. While you didn’t exactly officially live together just yet, you were at his place more than you were at your own, so it was pretty much like you lived there.

When he was on road trips during the season, you stayed there to take care of things and keep it clean, plus his bed was very comfortable and you loved being surrounded by the scent of him, curling up in his sheets late at night when you miss him.

After a bit more thinking and convincing from your side, he agrees, and seeing how ecstatic you were with just the thought of doing this with him, it suddenly became worth it; his main goal is to make you happy, and he was glad to be fulfilling that with this request.

“Well, let’s go shopping for decorations!” You jump up from the couch, rushing to put your shoes on. Seth laughs while shaking his head, standing with you to grab his keys and slide his shoes on.

Following a trip to Target and a restaurant for dinner, you return home with all the bags of decorations you splurged on, realizing you may have gone slightly overboard with it all.

“We’ll start working on the outside tomorrow, tonight we can put some decorations up in here,” you say, Seth dropping his share of bags on the floor next to the coffee table. “I think they’re all mixed in, so let’s separate them.”

You start removing things one by one from the bags on the dining room table, remembering things that you forgot you even put in the cart. Seth holds up a plastic skeleton of what appeared to be a bear.

“Babe, what the hell is this?” He wonders, examining it.

“I thought it was cute. It’s like a teddy bear but it’s a skeletal form. I also got a shark,” you say, pulling another skeleton out of the bag, “and a duck.” You slyly smile as you pull the third animal out of the bag. Seth stares at you blankly, his eyebrows furrowing together.

“Why?”

“Because they’re funny. Sharks don’t have bones and I just thought the duck was cute. Plus they’re not just Halloween decorations, they can be kept up year round.”

“Yeah, if people want to think we’re weirdos.” Sighing, your hands drop to the table, pausing taking things out.

“Why are you being so sour about this? I thought you said it would be fun,” you say, your voice dropping, along with your shoulders.

Upon hearing the sadness in your tone, Seth’s eyes shoot up at you and he immediately feels bad. He steps over to you and wraps you up in a hug, kissing along your head.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers. “You’re right. I uh, I’m not sure why I’m acting like this, but I promise I want to do this with you. I’ve never really set up for Halloween like this, it’s always been I’ve just gone to parties to celebrate and wore a dumbass costume. I’ve never had a place of my own to decorate and think about these kinds of things, so I guess it’s just…new.”

“Is it me? Is it because it seems like I’m trying to move myself in prematurely or take over your house? Because I don’t want you to think I’d be that way. I know my boundaries, but I thought it would be fun, so-”

“Hey, hey, hey,” he whispers, switching positions to cradle your face in his hands, his eyes burning into yours. “That is not what I think at all. I promise. If anything, I want you to move in officially because I love having you here.” He sighs as he chooses his words carefully.

“I think…deep down, I know things are changing and it scares me,” he continues, averting his eyes away from yours for a moment as he speaks. His tone is filled with shame and regret.

“Like…what?” You gulp nervously, staring up at him. Your hands shake ever so slightly against his wrists, where you held on to keep his hands glued to your face.

“Like, things are serious between us and…decorating for a holiday, in a home that we practically live in together, it’s…scary. I have always been terrified of settling down with someone, and now that it’s happening, I don’t…I don’t want to ruin it because…it’s perfect.” He chokes back tears as he describes his feelings. Your heart aches in your chest at his confession, not expecting the conversation to take a turn like this.

“Oh, Jarv,” you whisper, your hands trailing down to caress his forearms comfortingly. “I know it’s scary, believe me, I get it. And if this is too fast for you, we don’t have to do anything for Halloween. We can put all these decorations into storage for next year, if you’re okay with that.”

“I want to decorate, baby. I do. I guess I wasn’t expecting it and I haven’t had time to prepare.” You nod along to his words, ideas wracking your brain.

“Why don’t we wait, then? We can wait closer to Halloween to put things up or until you’re ready, or not even put anything up at all. I want you to feel safe and secure, Seth.” He nods and takes a breath, his heart beating rapidly in his chest.

“Can we wait till after the season starts, and after I get back from our first road trip? That’s about a couple weeks away, I think that time will help,” he replies shyly. You nod, his hands still on your face, which at this point was a way to keep him grounded.

“Of course. I’ll keep everything in the bags in the office while you’re gone. And if you get back and don’t want to do anything, don’t be afraid to tell me, alright?”

He nods at your words and kisses you hard, full of passion and love.

“Thank you,” he breathes out against your lips, his voice dropping a few decibels. “I love you.”

“I love you too, Jarvy. You deserve to express your thoughts anf feelings just as much as I do, and I never want to rush you for something that you’re not ready for, even as simple as decorating for a holiday.”

He kisses you again and continues to hold you to his chest, your hands gently running up and down his back to soothe him.

In the coming weeks, hockey season starts with a whirlwind. You gave Seth some space while he prepared for it all, going to his first home game of the season to cheer him on. Even when he was away for their first trip to Colorado to face the Avalanche, you were watching the game on TV, watching intensely as he plays his heart out.

Once the excitement of the new season starting settled in and everyone was finding their groove, Seth felt far more relaxed and conscious to have that talk with you, now that he’s returning home from their road trip.

He flew in from Texas late at night, getting in at around three in the morning. You were already fast asleep and the last thing he wanted to do was wake you up. But seeing as he didn’t feel tired, he put his plan into action after quickly showering.

Quietly, he took all the bags from the office, filled with the decorations you bought weeks ago, and laid everything out on the dining room table, separating it between outdoor and indoor. By the time he was finished, it was nearing five in the morning, so he finally decided to try and get some sleep.

In the morning, you found yourself wrapped up in Seth’s arms, smiling as you take in the sight of his exhausted face, his long eyelashes resting against his soft cheeks that you love to kiss. Yawning, you carefully escape his grasp and walk out to the kitchen to get started on breakfast, when something catches your eye.

The dining room table was covered with all the things you and Seth bought earlier in the month. Your jaw drops in wonder, your gaze running over everything.

“Want to decorate today?” Seth suddenly appears behind you, startling you. He laughs at your reaction and whispers a soft, “sorry” to you for scaring you.

“Did you do all this?”

“Yeah. I got home early this morning and I wasn’t tired so I set everything out. I feel ready, so let’s do it.”

“Really?” You gasp, your eyes filling with excitement.

“Hell yeah. I’ll start on breakfast if you want to make a plan on what we should do with everything.”

So, that’s what you and Seth did for the remainder of the day. Inside, you hung up paper bats all over, along with some fake cobwebs and cute little pumpkin and ghost items around. It wasn’t a lot, but it did set the tone for the holiday quite well.

The weather today was crisp and cool, a perfect temperature to set things up in. Seth stands on a step stool while you hold the string of pumpkin lights to hang them up around the porch, plugging them in to the exterior electricity. Stepping back to admire your work, you smile, feeling everything coming along nicely.

You also set up a projection light to show different Halloween objects and colors onto the house, a popular item as of late. Seth hangs up a few ghost figures on either side of the porch while you place a few fake tombstones with puns on them in the yard.

When everything is done and finished, Seth stands on the sidewalk with his arm around your waist, admiring how spooky your home looks.

“Move in with me,” Seth asks, although it’s more of a light demand. You gaze up at him and smile softly. “I want you to live with me, in our home.”

“Of course I will, Jarvy,” you beam, kissing him a couple times.

“Good. So, now all we need is candy to hand out on Halloween night, which is thankfully an off day for us. I get to spend it with my girl for our first holiday together in our new home.” You giggle and hide your face in his chest, hearing that he wants to spend the night with you instead of going out with the guys.

“Just wait until we get to decorate for Christmas,” you comment, raising your head to look up at him.

“Oh baby, I truly can’t wait, it’s going to be the best.”

taglist: @petite-potato4

[everythingharrypotterblog]

charmed [19]: 'epilogue' (remus lupin x reader)

series masterlist here

join taglist here

a/n: this is the end fr now. thank u so much to everyone who has left a like, reblog, reply or ask throughout the years. you have changed everything<3 as always, LMK WHAT YALL THINK and who knows... GoF next? ;)

19.

“Ron!!! Fred, George! I need a set of hands to carry these dishes out to the dining table!”

The Burrow was especially crowded this Christmas holiday, but that didn’t stop everyone from putting up the biggest tree that could fit in the living room, and decorate it with as many ornaments it could hold up.

“Here Molly, let me.” Y/N walked up behind Mrs Weasley.

She cried out indignantly. “What are you doing up on your feet, no you go sit down! FREEEED!“

A 6-month pregnant Y/N merely chuckled and walked back out of the kitchen.

“Here, darling.” Remus said, pulling out her chair for her and grabbing her hand to help her sit down. “You want this?” He waved the pillow he had grabbed from the couch.

“No, I’m good, thanks love.”

Remus placed a gentle kiss atop her head before going to put back the pillow. 

Y/N felt something brush against her feet and let out a little yelp in surprise.

“Everything okay?!” Remus perked up from the other room, constantly on the alert for any small sound of discomfort Y/N may make.

“Sirius!” Y/N chuckled exasperatedly, as she saw a big black dog poke his head out from underneath the table. “Molly’s going to come after your ass for being in dog form where we eat…”

The dog smiled, bearing its teeth as it sat between Y/N’s legs, resting its head atop her belly. It closed his eyes and wagged its tail once he felt a kick underneath his chin.

“Baby recognizes you Siri…”

Y/N felt a hand brush her hair atop her shoulder and a kiss on her newly exposed neck.

“I’m all sweaty from getting up.” Y/N blushed.

“Don’t care.” Remus muttered in her ear.

She chuckled and Remus pulled out the chair beside her to sit down.

“Sirius!” He exclaimed, spotting the dog. 

Just then, they heard Molly’s footsteps approach and Sirius flew out from under the table, scuttering towards the steps.

“Whoa!” Harry said, nearly tripping over him as he came down from Ron’s room. Sirius jumped up on his godson, letting him pat his head before walking away and transforming back to human form.

Ron, Harry and Hermione walked in the kitchen and helped Molly transport dishes onto the dining table.

“I’ll keep the spicy stuff away from you, Y/N?” Harry said, pointing to his dish.

“Thanks, Harry.” Y/N nodded. She was in a point in her pregnancy where the slightest bit of spice would keep her up all night with heartburn.

Hermione hurriedly put her dish down and rushed to the empty chair on Y/N’s other side.

“This seat taken, Professor Y/L/N?”

Y/N giggled. “I’m not your teacher anymore, Hermione, you can call me Y/N.”

“Oh, right.” Hermione blushed.

Y/N pulled the seat out and invited her former student to sit. “How have you been, honey? You need to tell me everything about your semester.”

Hermione sat down gratefully and smiled as she took a deep breath, as that was precisely what she was hoping to do.

The table filled up as the rest of the Weasleys joined and they all ate their way slowly through many delicious courses prepared by Molly.

Y/N heaved a big sigh and brought her hand to her stomach. Remus glanced at her and gave her a look.

You wanna go? His eyes said.

Y/N nodded. Remus winked at her reassuringly and set his fork and knife down.

“Excuse us folks, dove here needs a little break.” Remus announced. Y/N smiled gratefully at him.

“I’m sorry, Molly, it was all so delicious, I think I’ve gotten too much of a good thing even—“

“Oh dearest, of course, do you need help getting upstairs?”

“No, no! Please, stay, finish your dinner.” Y/N exclaimed.

Both Molly and Arthur had gotten up to offer help, as well as Sirius and the twins, but the couple shooed them and beckoned them to take back their seats. 

“No worries everyone, daddy’s got this all in the bag.” Remus chuckled, helping Y/N up.

Y/N’s eyes widened slightly at how casual Remus was and Sirius coughed into his glass of wine, muttering something similar to “get a room”.

Remus helped Y/N up the stairs and quickly walked to the bed to prop up the pillows in the way she liked.

“Here we are, love.” He said, taking her arm and helping her get on. “There we go.”

He summoned the garbage can from across the room with a wave of his hand. “I’ll leave this close-by, just in case yeah?”

Y/N nodded, breathing deeply as she clutched her chest. “Thanks. I ate too much.”

“That’s alright.” Remus whispered, taking a seat on the bed beside her and pressing the back of his hand on her forehead just to make sure she wasn’t actually sick.

There was a knock on the door, and Harry walked in.

“Er, sorry to interrupt. I brought a cup of ginger tea, if that may help with your nausea.”

Y/N grinned, “Aw, thank you Harry.”

She patted his arm as he set the mug on her bedside table. “Rem, go back down, I’ll be fine here.”

“You sure?” Remus looked at her sincerely.

“Yeah, yeah, c’mon. Go with Harry.”

“Okay…” He said, placing a kiss atop of her head. “Call if you need anything.”

“Yeah, yeah.” She smiled. She waved her wand to summon her book, and to close the door behind them as they exited.

Back downstairs at the dining table, Remus was wolfing down the rest of his plate.

“Blimey, are you eating for two as well, mate?” George jested.

Remus chuckled through a mouthful and said once he swallowed, “No, I just wanna get back to Y/N as quickly as possible.”

+

Y/N stirred in her sleep, eyes fluttering open as consciousness took over her. She was crying.

Remus felt her move in his arms and slowly awoke as well, peeking one eye open. Y/N whimpered slightly, pouting.

“My love…” He whispered, reaching over and brushing his thumb over her tears. “Why are you crying?!”

“Just had a dream that we were all together again.”

Remus’ face fell slightly. He pulled her to him and cradled her head. “We all will be. Soon, I promise.”

Y/N sniffled.

“And if that dream is accurate, I’m gonna be nauseous around 6 months. And have acid reflux.”

Remus chuckled.

“It’s not funny!” She said, lifting off him and punching him.

“I know, I know!” Remus said, beckoning her to come back to him. “Your body is going through the most magical thing there is in the world. I cannot believe how amazing you are. It’ll get hard, but I promise you with everything that I am that I will be here for you. You won’t have to lift a finger.”

Y/N smiled into his arm. 

“Wanna reread Sirius’ latest?”

Y/N nodded. Remus leaned over the bedside table with a languid stretch.

The letter read;

Dear Remus and Y/N,

How’s little cub doing? And mum and dad of course. ;) 

I’m more North now. Weather’s a bitch, but we found the sweetest empty inn to stay in here. Buckbeak’s been happy with it too.

Don’t forget Harry’s birthday is the 31st of this month. I’ve found a pretty lowkey bakery here, I’m gonna try to send him a cake. Poor fellow, it’ll have been weeks he’s stuck with his aunt and uncle. He writes that he’ll be going to the World Cup though with the Weasleys. Lucky fuck.

That’s all that’s new with me. Let me know how you two are doing. I miss you both, my old friends.

Padfoot

+

Later on in the day, Remus and Y/N had gotten themselves to work. The plan was initially to bake Harry a cake for his birthday and mail it to him, but the list quickly expanded to an array of sandwiches, pastries and assorted snacks they knew he liked.

“Am I doing this right, love?” Remus said, bent over the stove as he watched over a pot of cream.

“Mhm hmm”, Y/N said, giving her wand a twirl and the heat under the pot lowered itself a notch. “Just don’t burn it.”

Once the cream had come to a boil, Remus took it within his hands, bouncing slightly as the oven mitts he had on were not robust enough to block all the heat.

Y/N snickered from her seat. “You know you’re a wizard right? You can levitate the goddamn bowl.”

“Yes, but then we’d never have an occasion to wear these.” Remus said, lifting both hands and showing the oven mitts that had small embroidered kittens on them.

“Wait, wait, stay like that.” Y/N got up quickly, running to the room and grabbing the camera to snap a picture of him like that. “Lovely.” She smiled to herself as the picture printed upon the magical film.

“Right, so ganache done, muffins are in the basket already, sausage rolls—“

Remus looked over at the table where they had prepared 9 sausage rolls only to find 2 and half missing.

Y/N swallowed and grinned at him innocently. “I think that stray dog from down the street came in… Besides, he will do fine with 6. Half a dozen, it has a good ring to them.” She muttered sheepishly, packaging them all.

“Gimme a kiss.” Remus said, walking over to her.

“Aw,” Y/N simpered as Remus grabbed both her cheeks, lowering his face down onto hers.

“Your breath is full of sausage roll, you cheeky liar!” Remus pulled away in triumph.

“The baby wants them!!!” Y/N pouted, folding her arms over her chest.

Remus chuckled, leaning down to properly plant a kiss on her.

“Rem..?” Y/N mumbled shyly.

“Yes pup?” He said, pressing his ear against her lips.

“The baby wants caramel ice cream too…”

+

Dear Harry,

Happy birthday! We hope you have an amazing one, although we know you might not be exactly where you want to be. We’ve read your hungry letters and hope you’ll appreciate what this owl can carry from our kitchen; we’ve tried to make all your favourites. 

Sirius tells us you will be going to watch the World Cup with the Weasleys soon! How amazing! Have the best time. I’m quite jealous, if I wasn’t on maternity leave I would have definitely picked up a shift with the Obliviator squad to try to sneak in for free.

We are doing well. Keep writing us and keeping us updated with how you’re doing.

We love you,

Y/N and Remus

Hi Harry, this is Remus as you can probably tell by the handwriting change. Just want to tell you I made 9 sausage rolls but Y/N is the reason you are only getting 6.

I’M PREGNANT! -Y/N

+

Remus’ dreams were weird that night. At first, they were of 4 boys aboard what seemed like the Hogwarts Express, absolutely wreaking havoc upon their compartment.

“Padfoot, catch!” James yelled, throwing a handful of jelly beans at Sirius’ face.

“You bastard, throw me ONE at a time!” The long-haired boy bellowed, jumping upon his friend.  

“Sit the fuck down!” Remus said through his tears of laughter. 

“Right, he’s a Prefect now,” Sirius said, straightening up mockingly. “Here Moons, there’s a flavour you’d like by the way.”

He tossed him a red jelly bean, which Remus ate and winced at the flavour.

“Raw steak!” Sirius howled with laughter, slapping his knee in delight at his own joke.

James patted him on the back, “That’s ROUGH mate, here have a square of this,” and he handed his friend a brick of chocolate.

Suddenly, the scene changed and Remus found himself alone in the compartment. And it was dark, and rainy outside. And extremely cold. He was taller. The case in front of him now had “Professor R. J. Lupin” stamped on it in peeling letters. It was freezing, and he felt himself begin shivering until…

The compartment door burst open and in came Ron, Hermione and Harry.

“Pretty good stash this year!” Ron said happily, splaying out the mass of sweets they had just bought from the trolley.

Harry took a seat beside Lupin and grinned up at him. Hermione sat down across from him and picked up his annotated textbook.

The compartment was warm and now full of yellow light. It shined from the door and Remus got up to close it, when suddenly he found himself walking into his own kitchen.

Y/N turned in her seat, and smiled at him. “Tea?” She said. She poured him a cup with one hand while the other caressed her very protuberating pregnant belly.

Remus looked behind him confusedly. The train was now small and pulling away. He looked back at the kitchen table.

“Thanks love,” he said, and he took a seat.

+

Remus woke with a stir and half expected to already be in the kitchen. But no, he was tucked safely in bed, and to his left, was Y/N sound asleep, snoring slightly.

He glanced at her belly under the covers, and it was nowhere as big as it was in the dream. Yet.

Slumping back down on his pillow, he turned to the side and laid a hand on Y/N’s stomach tenderly. And he blissfully fell back asleep.

[ajbullet]

My thoughts on episode 3 of PJO: (spoilers)

I so enjoyed doing this for the first two episodes and the response was great, so hey, maybe this will be an entire series thing

-The oracle was amazing. It was a perfect mix of creepy yet humorous with Percy’s perfect voice crack and “you’re a Halloween decoration” line. Having just reread the book, I wouldn’t have remembered that the prophecy came from Gabe so that was a really cool, book-accurate detail I enjoyed.

- The WAY PERCY CHOSE ANNABETH! I freaked out. Cause you know in the book Annabeth is just like “I’m coming” and that’s that. To see Percy go out of his way to CHOOSE her for his quest was so special to me and I loved it (even tho it was for a different reason than I originally thought.)

-Annabeth’s reaction to getting picked was perfect. This is a girl who has waited YEARS for a quest and in no way do I think she was expecting to be picked. Hoping, of course. But Leah’s expression of shock then excitement was perfect

- Grover talking to the horses

-Percy picking Grover

-“I’m going to back the best snacks” The snacks in question being tin cans

-Bro give Thalia a break Percy, wth 😭. He came at her so hard for someone he hasn’t even met. Which was hilarious and so Percy-like, but dang. I thought Annabeth was gonna kill him right then and there.

-“She met a Pinecone’s fate” Like this boy…🤭

-I loved watching Leah’s expressions the whole time the three of them were traveling to the bus terminal. I will never get over how subtle she is able to make her thoughts appear on her face. Like you could clearly tell she was taking everything in for the first time in 5 years, while still trying to remain calm and seem in control in front of the other two

-THE BICKERING OMGS. I wasn’t ready for the arguing, but it fits so well. It MADE SENSE. Like none of these kids know just how much they can trust each other and their all scared and they don’t really know what they are doing so of course they are going to fight and argue and take out their emotions on each other.

-Grover’s consensus song was perfect. I had no idea why he was clapping at first and when he started to sing I was scared because it had potential to be really cringy but I honestly think it fit his vibe and was cute.

-ok, so for the scene with Annabeth in the store, I loved of course cause it was my girl and I originally watched it as a kid with a lot of money placed in front of infinite candy and she couldn’t just pick ONE so she got them all and it was adorable. But I’ve also seen posts talking about her trying to read the wrapper and since she’s dyslexic she couldn’t tell what flavor was what so she got all of them, which would also make sense and is a perfect subtle detail. Now I just saw one post that said she was trying to pick the perfect candy to make Grover and Percy LIKE HER and that just about broke my heart. Feel free to comment or reboot with your opinions because I’ve loved seeing all these different takes on that scene. All I know is it was awesome and the contrast between a girl picking candy and immediately sensing something is wrong and putting up her guard was a perfect way of showing how life is for demigods

-The invisibility cap!!!!

-“We’re lost in the woods, somewhere in New Jersey and we’re never gonna make to LA” was all I could think about

- again the BICKERING. Annabeth calling Percy out. Her asking what he’s afraid of. Grover trying so hard to keep the peace. (As a middle sibling, I felt that in my soul). “He was my protector first!” Loved that. Just the whole conversation was so interesting

I’m gonna make a part two because I have so many more thoughts on Medusa and her story and I’m hungry so I’m gonna go eat.

Part two:

[munsonhoneybaby]

Beginning Traditions | Eddie Munson X F!Reader

Summary: It’s your first Christmas in your new home with Eddie and the two of you are ready to explore the next steps you’ll take together as you form your own Christmas traditions.

Word Count: 1.2k

Warnings: 18+ mdni, just some heavy making out honestly nothing bad in this one

A/N: takes place in december of ‘94. bit more of a blurb/drabble. this was originally gonna be some super sweet extensive thing with a lil breeding kink and some sex by the fireplace but uh- the month really got away from me. i’ll try and make it up to y’all with whatever i post next <3

The bluesy cadence of Elvis’s voice floated quietly through the main rooms of your home, the old holiday records your family had passed down having been dusted off in the name of the season. It was certainly a change of pace from the rock and metal cassettes you typically had playing. The golden twinkle of the Christmas lights worked hand in hand with the flickering fireplace to fill the room with a warm glow.

Four inches of snow blanketed the ground outside and, according to the weather report, the elements wouldn’t be letting up anytime soon. Inside, however, Eddie had turned up the heat and started the fire while you had made two mugs of hot chocolate ‘with all the fixins’. The Christmas tree was fully decorated, including multiple ornaments the two of you had made together. The only thing missing was the star on top, which was what led you to balance precariously at the top of your step stool, stretching to reach the top of the eight-foot tree.

Warm palms met your exposed skin as your boyfriend of eight years grasped your hips to steady you. “You gotta be more careful, pretty girl. Gonna gimme a heart attack.”

“Eds, babe, the ladder’s like two feet tall. If anything, I’m worried about takin’ the tree down with me.” You fidgeted with the fake branches, “Is the star sitting straight?”

“Looks perfect, honey.” He held a hand out to help you step down, tugging you a few steps back to take a look.

You hummed in agreement as he kissed your temple, your back pressing into his chest. “It’s pretty. You did a good job on the lights.”

He smiled at you before glancing out the window where the wind howled and the tree branches shook. “Thank God I put up the lights outside yesterday. Who knows when this storm’s gonna let up.”

Hip bumping his, you gave him a suppressed smirk. “Oh, I’m sure we’ll find ways to keep busy. I just hope we don’t lose power, even with the heat going I’m still freezing.”

“If we can find ways to keep busy, we can definitely find a way to keep warm. Don’t you worry, honey baby.”

A ding from the oven drew you to the kitchen as Eddie put away the step stool. Grabbing the bag he’d stowed away in the guest room, he met you in the kitchen where you were swapping out the freshly baked sugar cookies for unbaked cookie dough. “Hey, I’ve got somethin’ for us to do tonight.”

“When did you go to Family Video?” You frowned in confusion at the bag in his hands.

Ignoring your question, he asked, “Remember that one kids’ Christmas movie you liked that came out last year? The Tim Burton one?”

“The Nightmare Before Christmas?” The smile spreading on your face had him pulling the brand-new VHS from the bag. With a little squeal, you took it from him to inspect it. He’d even gotten one with a plastic hardcover instead of a paper one. Your arms wound around his neck with a tight squeeze, “Thank you, Eddie!”

Squeezing your waist right back, he chuckled. “‘Course, pretty girl. Why don’t you go turn the movie on and I’ll make us some popcorn, hm?”

Less than a year until he’d turn thirty, and even after so many years with you he still stood in the doorway to watch you bend over and put the VHS in– only then did your boyfriend attend to his task of making popcorn. The hot bag burned his fingers as he dumped the microwaved popcorn into a big bowl. He joined you on the couch after pressing play for you, the festive pattern of your matching pajama pants blending together as your legs curled against his.

Eddie eyed your content expression as you watched the movie with a small smile. It had been a philosophy of yours to try and maintain the spirit of the holiday season for as long as Eddie had known you. Even when he’d still lived with Wayne, you’d insist on coming over to help decorate the trailer. He still remembers asking you about it on your first Christmas together as a couple. My family doesn’t really get along, you’d explained with an expression of shame that made his chest hurt. Not a lot of people show up to celebrate, and there’s always a fight when they do. I guess I just wanna try and enjoy what I have around times like this, y’know? Bring people together. He looked over at the two stockings hanging from the mantle of the fireplace and imagined more hanging beside them. “So, are you gonna leave cookies and milk out for Santa this year?”

Meeting his eyes out of the corner of yours, you smiled and popped a piece of popcorn in your mouth. “I s’pose I could if Santa actually wants to sneak in the living room at midnight to put the presents under the tree.”

“Well, I think he’s going to. He’s gonna need the practice if he’s gonna have a little one or two to deliver presents to in the Christmases to come.” He tried to keep a lightheartedly teasing expression on his face, but part of him tried to gauge how you would react to that.

“Little ones, huh?”

“Doesn’t have to be by next Christmas,” He reassured with a little smile. “All this’s just makin’ me think about it.”

“Yeah?” Your hand soothed over his clothed chest before slipping beneath his shirt to do the same to his skin. “Eddie Munson’s really thinkin’ about kids?”

His face flushed, head tilting down as his eyes darted around. “I don’t know, it’s just…we’re in such a good place– and I wanna stay like this for a while longer, I do, ‘cause this is perfect, y’know? I just think we’re getting there, I guess. Like maybe it’s time to start talking about parenting stuff a little more and preparing together?”

Cupping his cheek, you met his gaze with a small smile. You couldn’t help but kiss him, fingers winding into the loose messy bun that was falling out at the base of his neck. “We’ll talk about it, Eds. I promise.” You could feel his smile against your lips as they molded to his again, his arms surrounding you to draw you into his lap. “Eddie, the movie,” You pouted half-heartedly into the kiss.

“We’ve got it on VHS now, babe. We can watch it anytime,” He argued as his mouth found its way to your neck. Head rolling back to give him more room, you pulled your borrowed scrunchie from his hair. His hands wandered from your hips over your waist and up your back, mapping out each curve as though he didn’t already have them all memorized.

Pulling back slightly, your thumb stroked over his jaw. “You’re gonna be such a good dad.”

“You really think so?” He asked, a little nervousness seeping into his tone.

“I know so, baby. You’re gonna be amazing.”

He pulled you down into another ravenous kiss, mumbling against your lips. “I love you.”

On Christmas that year, he got down on one knee and gave you a ring.

The next year, you bit your nail as you watched Eddie unwrap his final Christmas gift from you– the first of several positive pregnancy tests.

<3

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[jackhues]

christmas mornings - jack hughes

prompt: jack proposing to you under the christmas tree

requested by: @bordeleau : )

notes: this was really cute, i'm super happy about how this turned out! thanks for requesting <3

tags: @woodruff-edwards <3 join my taglist!

gif not mine!

on christmas morning, you woke up to kisses. you scrunched your nose up, making a noise to try and push jack away. he ignored you, peppering kisses over your face.

“i’m up, i’m up,” you muttered, finally opening your eyes.

jack grinned at you, finally awake. you tried to narrow your eyes at him, but it was hard to stay mad when he smiled like that.

“hi,” he couldn’t seem to stop smiling. “let’s go open our presents!”

you laughed as he carried you out of bed, bridal style, towards the living room.

“wait, wait! i need to brush my teeth!” you protested. “put me down! jack!”

“do you really have to do that now?” he groaned. “can’t it wait?”

“no,” you rolled your eyes. “put me down now.”

“fine,” he groaned, setting you down.

you laughed to yourself as you made your way to the washroom to brush your teeth. the two of you were spending christmas in new jersey, since the devils schedule was too stacked for you to make the trip to michigan. 

since it was just the two of you this year, you decided to keep it smaller than usual. with a mini christmas tree and some festive lights, you guys decided it was enough. you’d much rather spend the day with him than fuss about the decorations.

after brushing your teeth, you made your way to the living room still in your pajamas. jack was sitting expectantly under the christmas tree like you’d expected. 

you grinned, giving him a quick kiss.

“you sure you don’t want to eat breakfast first?” you asked. “we’ve got waffles.”

“i’m not that hungry, you?” he asked.

you shook your head. “there’s not a lot of presents anyways. might as well open the few we’ve got.”

“okay, but open mine first!” jack said, rummaging through the few boxes, pulling out a small one.

you laughed at his enthusiasm, taking the box from him. it was rectangular-shaped, most likely carrying some picture of you two in a case of some sort. jack knew you cared about the sentiment more than the price, and this was how he managed to make both of you happy.

“wait!” he shouted suddenly, remembering something as soon as you were about to open the present.

“yes?” you asked, raising a brow.

“you need to be standing like… this!” he said, helping you up and adjusting you to make you face the kitchen.

“is there a reason i’m standing facing the kitchen?” you asked as jack went to stand behind you.

“uh… yeah, yeah. you need to face the kitchen for this to work,” you could practically hear him nodding as his head from where he stood behind you.

you weren’t sure if that was true or a convenient excuse, but you shrugged to yourself. “can i open it now?”

“um… yes, now you can open it!” he said.

you still couldn’t see him, so you had to trust that whatever he had planned was working out how he wanted it to.

“okay…” you smiled, unwrapping the present.

you froze at the velvet box that lay underneath. it was a blue so dark it almost looked black - your favourite colour. your heart sped up at the thought of what lay inside it.

“you can open the box,” jack said from behind you, his voice soft.

too stunned to do anything else, you nodded dumbly, opening the box. in place of a ring was a small note. you took it out and unfolded it, recognizing jack’s handwriting. normally scribbly and illegible, he’d made an effort for this. even drawing a little heart.

turn around <3

you turned, your hands flying to your mouth in surprise, even though you knew jack was going to be on one knee. he held a ring in his hands, smiling up at you and looking much more nervous than this morning.

“yes,” you said, even though he hadn’t asked anything yet.

jack laughed a bit, “no, wait. i’ve got a speech. but it’s nice to know your answer from before.”

you laughed, crying even though this was the happiest you’d ever been in your life.

“y/n, you’ve been my girlfriend for three years,” he began, tearing up slightly. you didn’t blame him, considering you were trying to hide your own sobs. “but you’ve also been more than that: my best friend, the person who makes me laugh, the person who orders takeout in advance when i cook, the person who’s been there for me even when i didn’t know i needed it. y/n, i’ve loved you for a long time, and i can’t imagine my life without you. i don’t want to. so, y/f/n y/l/n, will you marry me?”

you laughed through the tears, nodding your head. “yes.”

he slipped the ring on your finger, catching you as you fell to your knees, the two of you on the floor in front of your christmas tree.

“i don’t think you can ever top this christmas present.”

[sl-newsie]

I Will Always Love You (Dr. Spencer Reid x OC) *Halloween Special* 🎃

Summary: Rossi throws a Halloween party at his mansion for the team and some close friends, and Reid loves a certain costume a coworker’s wearing… maybe leading him to finally confess his feelings.

“So… what kind of costumes do we wear? Matching? Scary, funny…?” I ask.

“Whatever you feel comfortable with,” Rossi replies. “But I will ask if you can keep it down to PG13. I’m looking at you, Garcia.”

“I can’t believe my costume last year was deemed inappropriate!” The blonde agent complains from across the room.

“It is when you’re dressed as a playboy bunny and pretend-flirt with Morgan even more than usual,” Hotch says dryly.

She huffs. “I was staying in character! Halloween is when you can pretend to be someone else!”

“Yes but in this job we have to maintain somewhat professional, even if it’s at a party. So please follow the guidelines.”

I can’t believe I’m invited to an actual party! Throughout high school and college I was never involved with the popular kids, and had little friends to begin with. But ever since I started working in DC I’ve made lots of connections, with one being the one and only Agent Rossi from the BAU. He’s thrown a few get-togethers for the team, and this year I’ve been invited to an official Halloween party! And what’s best is that I’ll get to hang out with my coworkers outside of the work environment! I’m really looking forward to it, especially since Reid will be there. Call it cliché and pathetic but I’ve grown romantic feelings for the ingenious doctor, but no matter how hard I’ve tried I can’t get rid of them or gain the courage to tell him. It’s best to suppress them and hold onto the steady relationship we already have.

I pack up my things and start walking out, then Rossi calls: “You’re coming tonight, right Rita?”

“I’ll be there!”

I’ve already got a costume in the works, one I’ve been planning since June. It’s a bit of a stretch, but I guess I’ll have to see what happens…

3 hours later…

Reid’s POV

All the costumes so far have been awesome! I wish Halloween was more than once a year. Between the cool decorations and outfits, how can anyone not like it? This year I’ve chosen to go as Sherlock Holmes as a tribute to one of my favorite fictional detectives. 

I keep looking around for Rita, almost disappointed that she isn’t here yet. I’d never say anything, but in the last few months she’s worked with us it’s been near impossible to not notice myself acting strange around her. Of course Morgan teases me about anything awkward I do, but even I have found myself acting strange around Rita. Increased heart rate, scattered thoughts, and the nagging feeling of wanting to make sure she’s doing ok. But isn’t that what any friend would do? Look out for one another? 

I shake the confusing thoughts from my head and continue to look around. And next walks in- oh. Wow. Oh wow! An almost direct clone of Dolly Parton struts into the room, wearing a silver rhinestone suit, heeled boots, and clutching a white guitar. Who on Earth is that…?

“Hiya, darling!” She walks up to where I’m sitting and plops down next to me, and when I get a better look at her face it finally clicks.

“Rita? That’s you?” I gape.

“Sure is, Spencer!” She says in a practiced southern accent. “Dolly’s been a hero to me for a long time and I figured it’d be a fun costume. It took a while to put together, but I found…”

I try to keep up with what she’s saying, but my mind keeps wandering to how accurate her costume is. Her blonde hair is teased and piled into a giant updo, complete with some glitter sprinkled on it. And the suit fits her perfectly… it seems wrong to think like that, but I can’t help looking at how her chest sticks out. Has she always looked that way?

Thankfully Garcia shows up and starts asking the questions I’m too scared to ask.

Rita’s POV

Thank God Reid’s here, because so far I don’t know a single soul here. It’s nice to sit and hide in a corner to chat, and eventually more of the BAU members start to show. When Penelope sees us she makes a beeline over and starts gushing about our costumes.

“I love the Dolly getup! Are- are those real?” Penelope asks and gestures to my chest.

My face flushes red. Of course it would be Garcia to ask something so blunt. I’m not offended in the least, but I’ve always been insecure about my larger than normal bust. But that’s why Dolly’s been so inspirational, because she’s proud to be so outstanding.

“Yes, they’re real. And if you wanna joke about it then please ‘follow the guidelines,’” I mock Hotch’s instructions. “I am as God made me and I ain’t ashamed.”

Garcia smiles again and continues to talk about her costume, which is a giant cupcake. By now more people are starting to arrive and Garcia goes off to greet more guests just as JJ and Emily walk up to us. JJ has chosen a simple pumpkin shirt and top, while Prentiss is wearing a white dress complete with eerie doll makeup.

“You chose Annabelle?” JJ gives her a strange look.

“What can I say? My comfort films are weird.” Prentiss shrugs.

“I’m guessing you’re dressed up as Sherlock Holmes?” I finally ask the genius sitting in the chair behind me.

“Elementary, dear Rita. He’s one of my favorite literary characters.”

It’s strange. Reid keeps looking at me funny, then shifting his gaze to avoid my eyes. He’s normally not this scatterbrained.

“Oh that’s a dork-able, Reid the brainiac is dressed as a brainiac!” Morgan, wearing a skeleton costume, walks up and smirks. When he looks at me Morgan gets a confused look and I can tell he doesn’t recognize me. “And who might you be, Dolly?”

I stifle a laugh and exchange looks with Reid, who seems to wanna laugh just as much as I do.

“I’m surprised you ain’t noticed yet, Agent Morgan,” I say in my southern accent.

Just like Reid, Morgan’s face explodes in bewilderment and he gives me a second look-over.

“Wait, wait. You’re telling me that this gorgeous twin of Dolly Parton is our Rita?” He looks over at JJ and Prentiss, who start laughing. “Tell me I ain’t the only one who’s blown away! Damn, you look good in that! Nice costume!”

He gives me a high-five and goes off to find Garcia, and I notice in the corner of my eye that Reid’s stiffened up a bit, muttering an excuse I can barely hear and striding off before I can speak. What’s wrong with him?

Reid’s POV

When Morgan started praising Rita’s costume it felt as if my chest was being squeezed. I don’t know why. It’s as if every time I think about Rita my brain doesn’t think clearly, and I go through anger phases when I see someone else with her. Isn’t that normal friend behavior?

That’s when I make a new diagnosis: I have a crush on my coworker. 

It’s something I’ve been avoiding, pushing away thinking I’d never have feelings for someone. With my job it’s too dangerous to have relationships, plus the fact that I’m an awkward nerd doesn’t help. Besides, a beautiful girl like Rita probably already has a boyfriend.

After Morgan’s off to find Garcia I quickly excuse myself, going off to the hors d'oeuvre table and finding a cocktail labeled ‘witch's brew.’ I’m not one for drinking, but I need something to clear my head.

“Reid, are you ok? You never drink.” Hotch walks up from behind.

What am I supposed to say? Tell my boss I’m in love with my coworker, something that’s thoroughly discussed as a workplace rule?

I give a shaking nod and put the glass to my lips. It’s not strong, but I can still feel the alcohol sending electricity down my throat. “Y-Yeah. Just a bit tired. Shouldn’t you be trick-or-treating with Jack?”

Hotch shakes his head. “He’s at a party with some friends from his school, so I got the night off. But don’t avoid the subject. You’re not tired. What’s really wrong, Reid?”

There’s no escaping it now.

“IjustfoundoutI’minlovewithRitaandI’mscaredshe’llhatemeandIdon’tlikefeelinglikethis!”

Everything comes out so fast. There’s so much I want to say. At first Hotch looks confused, but after having a minute to translate my gibberish he gets a somewhat amused look on his face.

“I know, Reid. We all do.”

His words leave my mouth gaping. “Y-You do? But- but why didn’t… how- why am I the only one who didn’t?”

“Because when it comes to social cues you’re not much of an expert,” Prentiss says as she joins us. “We’ve all seen how you’ve been acting. It’s cute! You and Rita make a great pair.”

I groan as I hold my head in my hands. “But I hate feeling like this! What if I screw up? What if somehow my job gets her in trouble? You remember what happened with Haley!”

Hotch’s face darkens a split-second, but instead of brooding he puts a hand on my shoulder. “Spencer, just because our job is dangerous doesn’t mean we can’t allow love into our lives. It’s not healthy.”

“And you deserve to have a loving girl like Rita,” Emily adds.

“But doesn’t she already have a boyfriend?” I ask uneasily.

She frowns. “No. Where’d you get that idea? Rita’s incredibly antisocial besides hanging out with us.”

How on Earth does Rita not have guys crawling over themselves just to talk to her? 

By now Morgan and JJ have joined us as well.

“He’s confessed?” Morgan asks Prentiss and she shakes her head. “Reid, will you please just go and tell her? We’ve been waiting for a month! It’ll be a nice change to not have you giving me the murder look whenever I high-five your girl.”

The team ushers me away, so I can already tell there’s no going back now. Even if I don’t say anything, Penelope will tell Rita herself. I at least want this to be done on my terms.

I take a deep breath, then calmly walk back to the living room. I see Rossi chatting with some other guests and he gives me a wink. When I reach the doorway, Penelope passes me with an eye roll and points to the balcony.

“She’s out there. It’s about time! I can only distract her for so long! Now go get her, loverboy! Go go go!”

Ok, this is it.

Rita’s POV

For my first Halloween party I must say it’s… a bit boring. Sure I’ve gotten lots of compliments on my costume and been able to eat some good food. But without Reid the conversation’s shifted to JJ and Emily talking about some random guys that flirted with them at a bar last week, making me wish they’d stop bringing up romantic stuff. I’m not one for lovey-dovey talk, and with me being single it’s adding salt to the wound. Thank goodness they both go off to get a drink, but then Garcia pops over again and starts chatting about a new pair of shoes she found.

“Really? Some new Oxfords? Cool… Um, be right back. I need some air.”

Garcia gives me a wave and I quickly scoot out the side door to the balcony. It’s a chilly night, but my suit and wig keep me warm. There’s a sky full of bright stars and slight mist draping the landscape beneath me. It definitely feels like Halloween. I just wish I didn’t have to spend it the “grown-up” way. Right now I’d rather be back home, eating popcorn and watching Halloween. Anything but avoiding Spencer or having to listen to chats about love stuff.

“Mind some company?” A soft voice asks.

I grip my guitar and spin around, nearly chopping off Reid’s head. “Jesus, Spencer! Don’t sneak up on an FBI agent!” After seeing there’s no big danger I set my guitar down. “Sure, I guess? But why’d you leave?”

He leans over the railing and seems to think over his response. “I had an intention that I was needed elsewhere, and then the team gave me a case.”

My eyes widen. “You mean, like a profile case? Is someone in danger? Are we gonna have to leave-?”

Reid holds a hand up to quiet me, then with the other he takes my own hand. “It’s not a criminal profile. They gave me your case, Rita.” This leaves me even more confused, and almost don’t notice Spencer slowly leaning in closer. “There’s been something I can’t get out of my head, and you need to know. Now, if you don’t agree I’ll forget it but please don’t hate me. I- I…” He takes a deep breath and looks at me. “I’m in love with you, Rita.”

If it weren’t for the railing I think I’d fall, almost having to grab Spencer’s coat to avoid stumbling. This can’t be a joke… can it? Am I bold to assume that Spencer’s feelings mirror mine? What type of probability is that?

“Could’ve said something sooner,” I mutter just loud enough for him to hear.

His head perks up. “So- does that mean…?”

I throw my head back and laugh, nearly losing my wig. “Yes, Spencer! I’m in love with you too, and I could never ever hate you. But why not say anything until now?”

He nods his head side to side. “Well… I didn’t actually figure out I loved you until about 20 minutes ago. I- I’m good at profiling others, but not so good with my own emotions. I always thought that this job wouldn’t be a healthy way to keep a relationship, but the team agrees that we make a good pair- that is, if you want to?” He asks quickly.

I don’t answer right away and instead wrap my arms around him for a soft hug. “I’ve never been more sure of anything, Spencer. No unsub in the world could make me rethink that.”

He leans back with teary eyes. “Really? You’d put up with an awkward geek?”

His cute expression makes my heart melt. “You’re my awkward geek, Spencer. You never have to worry about disappointing me or putting me in danger. You being you is more than plenty. As the Dolly song goes, ‘I will always love you.’”

Spencer chokes back a sob and before he can get any more teary, I harness my courage and kiss his lips. This surprises both of us, but once we get past that we deepen the kiss. Once again I’m thankful for the railing because now we’re both leaning against it, and soon Spencer seems to grow just the tiniest bit desperate. We pull apart and he looks as if he’s about to beg me for more but is too afraid, so I save him the trouble.

“Wanna get outta here? I’ve got Halloween on 4K at home,” I smirk.

Reid grows a thankful smile. “Only if you’ll let me complain about the bad strategy choices the victims make.”

My own smile widens. “You do that too?”

Reid shrugs. “It’s kind of their own fault that they die! I mean, how could they not notice that someone was in the house?”

I take his hand and we make our way to the exit, but not before hearing a big celebration cheer from the team.

Happy Halloween, Spencer.

[gobletoffeels]

Chapter 3: The Hand That Feeds You

Summary: Alistair is faced with a difficult decision each Christmas break at Hogwarts. Back to mum's, or back to dad's? This year is no different.

Words: 5.5K

A/N: A continuation of the Friday and Sundays series - sorry for the feels I guess.

Also found on AO3!

_______

“4th December 1915 ~

My dearest duckie,

How has your year at Hogwarts been so far? I’ve not received any reports of any Dungbombs being set off lately, so I can only assume you’ve finally put the habit to rest. Perhaps the last Howler did the trick!

Only kidding x

I’ve missed you terribly as always. I know you’re only a broom ride away, but I can’t help but remember how viciously angry you’d make me, rumbling around the house when you were only up to my knee in height. How I wish for those days again!

On a separate note, I know your Christmas break is coming up soon. No doubt you’ve been enjoying the trips to Hogsmeade now that the decorations have been put up. It’s quite a sight to see.

I wondered whether you had given any thought to visiting over the break? Your room is exactly as it is since you last came – Quidditch posters and all.

Have a think and let me know, I await your owl soon.

xxx

Mama”

____

“3rd December 1915 -

Dear Al,

How’s it been at the old stomping grounds? Is Weasley still around? Garreth that is. Although he goes by ‘Professor’ now – hah! Never thought I’d see the day. Still, I hope your cauldron’s as far as possible from the front of the classroom (old habits die hard).

I know you’re breaking for Christmas soon, best time of year in my opinion. Lydia’s already gotten the stockings out and yours is already up! I’d love it if you stayed with us this Christmas—”

Alistair crumbled up the letter from his father. He knew what it was going to say already. Yet another feeble attempt from his father to put on the façade of a big happy family come Christmastime. He was certain his dad was deluded, for there was nothing remotely happy about having to trek between two homes at the behest of either parent for the fifth year running.

His mother was no better, though her letter pained him more. He never threw away a letter from mum. Alistair perched on the foot of his four-poster bed, adorned with rich emerald-green curtains. He stared down at the untarnished letter from his mother, with an immense feeling of guilt pooling up inside him.

The way Alistair saw it, he lost either way. His options were to go back to his mother’s and spend a solitary Christmas with just the two of them – a stark reminder of just how broken his family was. Or to spend it with his father and his new family, as an outlier of the reformed Sallow household. Another stark reminder of the family his father chose to have instead.

Over the years, Alistair grew to realise the unjust nature of his family’s situation. He watched his housemates year after year talk about the various holidays their families went on, the jokes their parents would tell at dinner tables, the way their dad taught them to fly a broom with their mum cheering them on from below. Slowly but surely, Alistair understood his family wasn’t quite like this.

At first it started with questions. Why? To which his mum never answered easily. When? To which his dad never dared to say either. And eventually the unanswered questions that remained evolved into anger; branded onto his skin for life.

By the age of fifteen, Alistair began to answer those questions himself. Whether he had the right answer to them was another thing. But so long as he was made to keep up this parade between two homes, his answers were as good as any.

Still, he had a decision to make. Yet instead of making it, he decided to head down to the common room. A welcomed distraction.

“What are you reading?” Alistair sat by his closest friend and confidant, whose head was immersed in the pages of a substantially sized book.

“A book.” He replied bluntly.

“Yes, I can see that, you dolt.” Alistair rolled his eyes. Typical of Harris to be this way. Alistair tugged at the book Harris read, much to his annoyance, before his best friend finally relented.

“Oh no. Don’t tell me you’re studying for Runes now. You know that O.W.L revision doesn’t start until we get back in the new year?”

“Alistair, my mum works here. Do you really think I have a choice in the matter?”

“Professor Roberts has never given me a hard time.” Alistair smirked.

“Lucky you. I unfortunately must handle her all Christmas break, where she’ll no doubt make sure I get in hours of revision. Dad always tells her to back off a little. It’s quite overwhelming honestly.” Harris huffed as he shut his book now, with all prospects of revision now gone.

“Tell me about it…” Alistair sighed.

“Are you going back this Christmas?” Harris turned his head to ask.

Alistair sighed once more.

“S’pose I have to…miserable situation every time.”

Harris hummed in agreement. “You’ve got your sisters though? Haven’t seen them in a while…you know they don’t stay cute for long…”

Alistair brought his hands to his face, rubbing it with frustration, letting out a loud groan. “Yes, and that means I’m back at dad’s…with bloody Lydia.”

Alistair’s hopes of coming down to escape from the deliberation were shot.

“What’s wrong with moonmind over here? Missing mummy?” A sour, sharp voice cut through into the common room.

“Oh, piss off, Carrow.” Harris rolled his eyes.

“Oh, with ease! I’ll be going back to Cragcroftshire soon. With mum and dad of course. Did you know most people only have one home, Sallow?” Carrow’s words sliced maliciously through Alistair.

Alistair scowled at the much taller, leaner, pallid-faced boy in front of him. Francis Carrow had it out for Alistair from the beginning. He taunted him endlessly for his supposed inferiority in wizarding society. Of course, he hadn’t come to these assumptions on his own, for word of Alistair’s precarious family situation spread quickly in many circles.

Alistair jolted upright from his seat, lurching towards Carrow, who instinctively backed away as he did.

“Get out of my fucking face, Francis –”

“My my, if this is any way to behave in public. Expected though, from a torn-up street rat. Did daddy teach you that one?” Carrow’s expression feigned confidence, his entourage of friends slowly forming behind him for reassurance.

“Never mind. Mum told me to not linger too long around the mudbloods anyway. Let alone the bastards too!” Carrow scoffed, eyeing Alistair a final time before taking off. The job was done, and Alistair was red in the face, his fists clenched hard enough that his fingernails dug into his skin.

“Forget him, Al. Come on.” Harris tugged on his arm, prompting Alistair to sit down again on the couch. He looked at him with concern, hoping his best friend would cool down from the heated confrontation.

“I hate him.” Alistair gritted his teeth in frustration, taking slow and deep breaths to compose himself.

“Me too. He’s always particularly shitty around this time of year. As if Christmas break is a competition of some sort.” Harris replied.

“He’s right though.”

Harris’s eyes widened in bewilderment.

“Every time I go back to mum’s…agh…it’s just dire, Harris. She’s all alone, she always does too much. I feel so bad. It kills me. At least at dad’s…I’ve got my sisters…I can pretend for a second that this is how it should be: one home.”

“Don’t let him get in your head. God, what’s his family, hm? A pack of pureblood inbreds? I wouldn’t go near him, not even at a broomstick’s length.” Harris chuckled at his own joke, eliciting a small one from Alistair as well.

“I think I’ll go back to dad’s…” Alistair said quietly.

~*~*~

Alistair dragged along his trunk up the swirling stairs of the Slytherin common room towards the floo portal that greeted him each day. As everyone else had cleared out for the year, he was unfortunately the last one left with the menial task of lugging it up the steps himself.

He dropped the trunk down with a thud as it finally reached the top. Alistair catching his breath as he let go.

“How nice to see you my young friend.”

“…hello Ignatia.” Alistair replied quietly. At this point, he wasn’t much in the mood for conversation, and would rather he just make it to one of his homes for the year, brave it through whatever grief Christmas would give him, and then just return to Hogwarts once more to escape from everything else.

“Do send my best to your mother and father. Sebastian and Genevieve have always been my favourites.” She replied cheerfully. What would a bust of Ignatia Wildsmith know about the familial ailments of Alistair? He never had the heart to tell her. He let it pass, at least someone out here considered him normal.

“…will do, Ignatia.” Alistair said with a sullen tone as he grabbed a handful of floo powder.

Alistair sighed.

“Feldcroft.”

The next few days appeared as a blur to Alistair. It was as though he functioned autonomously. On the first day, he didn’t say much. He greeted his father half-heartedly, insisting he take his own trunk upstairs, despite the persistence of Sebastian to help his son.

On the second day, Alistair emerged from his room later than usual. His father and stepmother were hellbent on getting him in good spirits for the holiday season.

As the days led up to Christmas, Alistair felt slowly as though he was finally in the swing of things. He made small conversation with his stepmother. He indulged his father in whatever activity he was enthused about doing with him. But for the most part, Alistair decided to occupy most of his time with his half siblings. As an only child, Alistair was at least thankful for the chance to have even a fraction of a bigger family than he thought he would. He decided to rid his mind of the facts that his two sisters would always have their mother and father together. He tried to forget, as he skipped stones across the water with them, that his sisters would never know any other way of life. He tried to forget that to them, Alistair was seen as their complete big brother, just another addition to their family. But his sisters to him, were a compensatory crumb of respite, to make up for a colossally convoluted home. He tried not to let these thoughts cloud his mind. It wasn’t their fault. He loved them deeply.

But the nature of his feelings over these days only compounded further and further, with each gentle look his father gave him, as if it was littered with…pity? Was it pity his father gave him?

How dare he pity me.

Alistair thought.

He glared at his father now, his mind racing, as they sat across from each other at the dinner table. Regrettably, Alistair has let his mind spiral far too deep into the anger again, and the thoughts had flooded into his mind faster than the time it took to put up those barriers.

He gripped his fork furiously until his knuckles began to whiten.

He fucking pities me.

Alistair was seething inside. He was certain his father must have caught on now, that his entire body was on fire. His eyes were emblazoned with rage and disgust. The sound had drowned out from the room, and Alistair could only understand the fire that had taken over his entire body.

And though his entire being was disturbed; unsettled. Alistair was still cognizant of his surroundings, and how much of an imbalance there was. His sisters were still unruly and running around, with his stepmother desperately trying to tame them to eat their dinner. The fireplace was crackling peacefully just beyond the kitchen, compared to the untameable and volatile flames that Alistair felt inside. And his father, eating dinner, keeping his thoughts to himself, catching his son’s eye every so often to give him a wink, or a smile, or anything.

And it drove Alistair mad.

“Stop fucking looking at me like that.”

Sebastian set down his cutlery in shock. Lydia, his stepmother jerked her head towards the table now, her focus taken away from her daughters, astonished by what was just said.

“…What?” Sebastian said quietly. He was certain he must have misheard.

“I said, stop FUCKING looking at me like that.” Alistair raised his voice now.

But Sebastian stared at his son in awe. As if for the first time, he didn’t recognize who he was. His stepmother followed suit.

“Alistair…what’s gotten into you?!” Lydia spoke first. She turned herself towards him, she spoke with concern. She couldn’t fathom that this anger was anything Alistair was capable of.

“Leave me alone.” Alistair barked at her, as he shoved her hand off him, his glare refocused onto his father.

“Don’t you dare talk to her that way.” Sebastian said sternly.

“Sebastian – honestly, it’s fine. Alistair, sweetheart what’s wrong?” Lydia leaned in closer now, her genuine concern for her stepson grew.

“I’ll say what I want to her! She’s not my bloody mum, and I’ll talk to strangers how I see fit!” Alistair’s voice became sharper, biting each word out as he snapped at his father.

Lydia’s eyes filled with tears, she backed away from the table, realizing that her presence was only making the situation worse.

“What is your problem, son?” Sebastian narrowed his eyes towards his son, his voice now bubbling with anger. He pushed his plate aside, for this was no time to eat anymore.

“You. You’re the problem. You sit there, like a fool, pretending everything is fine, everything is normal. You have your happy little life… your new wife. And then you invite me, to look at everything I could have gotten. Everything you took from me.” Alistair’s eyes now welled with tears - tears of rage - as he banged his fist against the table with each emphasis, his voice beginning to break as he finally let the fury wash over him,

“A-and then you have the nerve t-to…to look at me…with pity. As if you weren’t behind the reason that I feel this way…” Alistair gritted his teeth, frantically wiping the tears that fell. He was now enraged that he let himself get this way. His father didn’t deserve to see him cry. It would only add to the pity.

Sebastian clenched his jaw. Alistair wasn’t sure what was going to happen next. Was his father angry? Was he going to hurt him? Had he crossed the line? He had never seen his father look like this before, but then again, he had never said such things to him before.

“…Alistair…y-you know I love you.” Sebastian said in a strained voice. His fists were clenched tightly. His eyes locked onto his sons. He only broke his gaze briefly to realise that the dining room had now emptied, and it was just the two of them sat.

Sebastian blinked, and a wave of tears traced down his face.

Sadness, Alistair thought.

He’s upset. He’s crying.

Alistair registered his father’s expression. He had never seen it this way before. He tried to recognize the very human feelings that he was told all humans felt, now painted on his father's face. The realisation that his father was as human as anyone else.

Somehow this only twisted Alistair’s heart further. But he couldn’t shake the anger he felt.

How dare he cry too…he couldn’t even give him the chance unleash the full extent of his rage, before crumbling before him and filling him with the deepest guilt as well.

When it’s him who should feel the guilt.

Sebastian moved closer to his son, he too, wiping his tears hastily.

“I... I don’t pity you. I just missed you…” Sebastian said quietly.

“It didn’t have to be like this you know! I didn’t have to be the subject of ridicule at school, because my father is an astronomical fuck up.”  Alistair pushed out of his chair abruptly, knocking it backwards. Sebastian jumped as it smacked the floor loudly.

“STOP FUCKING SWEARING IN MY HOUSE.”  Sebastian switched. He jolted upright, smacking his hand on the table. He bellowed now. He refused to be disrespected by his own son. Sebastian was not even aware such a volume was possible from himself. He hadn’t heard a yell like that in many many years, not since he was at least Alistair’s age, and it horrified him that the sound now came from him.

“SO, YOU AGREE? IT’S YOUR HOUSE. NOT MINE.” Alistair now yelled back. The two of them now stood across from each other, with only the table between them to hold the other back.

“I have never shown anything less than love towards you. I love you Alistair. You think I wanted it this way?! You think I wanted to see you only two days of the bloody week?!” Sebastian’s voice broke as he pleaded his case to his son.

“Your-your mother…she did this. SHE’S the person you should be having this conversation with…she kept you from me.” Sebastian’s eyes soured, old wounds begun to slowly open again, and he allowed the pain of what Genevieve did to consume him with anger again.

“SHE WAS THERE FOR ME THE ENTIRE TIME. WHERE WERE YOU? WHO WERE YOU WITH?” Alistair screamed. To bring his mother in this now, was a new level of low.

“I made a mistake.” Sebastian sobbed; his voice now high pitched as he wailed.

“I’ve regretted it for every. Single. Day. Of my life since.” Sebastian looked at his son, yearning for him to seek understanding.

“Alistair… if I could take it all back I would…please…” Sebastian spoke in a hushed tone, his eyes doing a quick scan of the room as he did.

Unbelievable. Alistair thought.

He doesn’t even have the gall to say it out loud. He can’t bear to lose his perfect little life now.

“You’re unbelievable.” Alistair said coldly. “I’m out of here.” He snapped back into the present. His focus now was solely on getting out of this house as fast as possible. This was no home to him.

Alistair bolted upstairs, hastily casting a charm that locked his door solidly, not even his father banging on the other side, rattling the handle, could get through. He frantically threw everything he owned into his trunk again, Alistair wasn’t even sure what he placed inside, everything blurred into a muddy sea of colours, as he moved at the speed of light, ignoring the pleas from his father.

“Alistair.” Sebastian called out.

“Alistair, please don’t do this.”  Sebastian pleaded.

“Please son. It’s almost Christmas. Please stay. If not for me, then for your sisters.” He rattled the door handle once more.

Alistair winced as he heard the mention of his siblings. But no, it wasn’t good enough. He has made his mind up.

“Duckie…please don’t do this again.”  Sebastian cried out, his voice now tired and strained, if not tinged with a hint of resignation. He knew that his pleas fell on deaf ears.

Alistair pulled open the door a few moments later, Sebastian’s heart leapt briefly, in the thought that his son had come to reconsider, only for his heart to sink back down as he saw Alistair pull his trunk out aggressively through the doorway, brushing past his father.

His trunk rattled down the staircase loudly, thumping on each step as he pulled it down behind him. Sebastian shuffled after him desperately.

“Alistair. Don’t go. Don’t. Your mother will never forgive me. I can’t lose you again.” His voice was panicked. He didn’t know where Alistair was going. He hoped anywhere else reasonable. He blamed himself for his son’s volatility, part of it bred by him, and the other being an upsetting outcome of his environment.

The cool air breeze hit Alistair’s face as he met the quiet hamlet of Feldcroft once more. A contrast from the chaos that brewed in the house he left behind him. He was hardly able to see anything that wasn’t lit under the warmth of the lamps that adorned the hamlet. Only the faint green glow of the floo portal he emerged from a few days back. Alistair stumbled towards it with determination. Even Ignatia had realised something wasn’t quite right and opted to stay silent, as Alistair grabbed a messy handful of powder, and took off once more. His father beside himself as he cradled his head in his hands.

This was not the first time Alistair had done this. And Sebastian was riddled with fear as the memories of his son running away from his grasp came back to haunt him, the exact scene playing out right in front of him once more.

~*~*~*~

“I don’t understand.” Alistair said with panic.

“Why? I don’t understand…I don’t even know her…” Alistair’s voice wobbled.

“Duckie…calm down, please. She’s really lovely. You’ll love her.” Sebastian crouched down to his son, giving him a reassuring squeeze on his shoulders.

“So…so you’re going to forget about me?” Alistair whined, his voice getting more desperate as he questioned.

Sebastian looked at his son incredulously.

“Al…God, of course not?! Duckie…I’ll always love you. I love Lydia too. That’s why I want to marry her, Al. Don’t you think your poor dad deserves a chance at having someone he loves too?” Sebastian’s heart twisted. This had badly backfired. He should have known than to spring this on his son only a few weeks before he headed off to Hogwarts for the first time.

Alistair’s lip trembled as he restrained himself from crying, but to no avail.

“B-but…but you…you should love mum...” He wept, looking at his father with a pained expression.

Sebastian felt a lump in his throat, he couldn’t bear to see his son this way.

“I…I do love mum. You know I always will. She’s such a great mum to you—”

“Then WHY are you not marrying her?!” Alistair cried out.

Sebastian lowered his head, trying to compose himself.

“You know why, duckie…I’ll still see you. You’ll have a much bigger family now…you’ll have a new brother or sister too…” Sebastian spoke calmly; carefully. As though any word he said could set his son off.

Alistair’s face contorted into a sob, hearing of a new family in fact did not provide the reassurance that Sebastian had hoped. He pushed his father’s hands off him. To Alistair, it sounded as though it was a replacement family. A do-over, while he was getting shipped off to Hogwarts so that Sebastian would never have to think about him again. He only saw his father a few days at a time, so he had plenty of time to think about a life without Alistair. And now he was finally getting it.

But why wait till later to be rid of him? Alistair’s mind jumped to the obvious conclusions. He needed to get out. He wanted to run.

But who?

He couldn’t go back to his mum’s. She was sure to be devastated if she found out, in which she no doubt would ask, if he had come home in the state he was in now.

He had no where else to run. But his eyes scanned his father now. Scared of him, in a way, that the father he saw in front of him was now a different man to him.

Alistair backed away, slipping from Sebastian’s grasp as he raced to the front door. He had only one idea.

Sebastian’s hands fumbled; his entire body stumbled forward as he eagerly tried to chase after his son.

“Alistair--!” He called out, but his son was already running faster than he’d seen before.

“ALISTAIR!” Sebastian cried out even louder. He didn’t care that the whole hamlet heard him. His son was slipping from him faster than ever now.

Sebastian stumbled over a collection of branches and rocks that obstructed his path, as he raced after his son, who had made his way to the floo portal. With each second passing his heart dropped, as he knew exactly what his son was about to do.

Sebastian’s voice broke has he called out his son’s name once more, almost reaching to where he stopped, only for Alistair to vanish in thin air, before Sebastian had heard where he set off to.

Alistair’s face was still wet with tears when he arrived, at the only other home he knew was still somewhat his.

He walked up sheepishly to cottage on a cliff, overlooking a sweeping landscape of unruly seas, with waves crashing over the rocks ashore. He could never remember what this place was called, only who lived there, and the way the cottage looked. He had visited many times when he was younger, he recalled combing for seashells with his father there. He remembered the excitement of leaving the greenery of the hamlets for a place that was far more sparse, quiet, and empty, it was as if the whole world had begun from there.

Now Alistair found himself there once more, and already he felt a wave of calmness wash over him, as nothing but the sound of the shore filled the air, and the crisp moonlight lit his way as his small trembling hands reached towards the knocker. A small warmly lit window was the only other light to illuminate the darkness.

A shuffle from indoors was heard, as someone approached the door. The door opened, as the figure stood and looked out.

“Who’s there?”

A familiar, warm red glow now shone on Alistair’s face.

“U-uncle Omi.”

Ominis’s eyes widened, his breath catching as he instantly recognised the smallest, most timid voice.

“Alistair?! My dear, what are you doing here?” He said with astonishment. This boy was the last thing he ever expected to hear at this time of night.

“Can…can I stay with you?” His voice wobbled.

Ominis crouched down, pulling the boy into a hug.

“Where’s dad…where’s mum? Is everything alright?” Ominis’s voice was filled with worry.

“It’s…it’s fine…they’re fine…I ran away…” Alistair said sheepishly, letting silent tears fall on his uncle’s shoulder.

Ominis shuttled Alistair into his home now, not least to warm up the poor boy, who was now shivering from the cold. He sat him down on the couch in front of the fire, conjuring up a blanket to wrap him in. With a swift wave of his wand, Ominis conjured up a set of two cups, filling both with a blend of tea leaves. Ones that Ominis favoured greatly, as they proved to calm even the most fraught nerves.

He sat next to his Godson, whom he felt trembling now as he wept silently. His body convulsing ever so slightly as he let a new wave of sadness take over his whole body. Ominis still didn’t understand what had Alistair this distraught, but he knew to let him feel whatever it was he felt in this moment.

As Alistair gradually calmed down, he began to speak. He told Ominis how he had run away from his father’s. He told him how Sebastian was getting remarried. He told him how he didn’t understand. That he hated his life. That he didn’t want to go to Hogwarts. But he didn’t want to stay with his dad anymore. He didn’t want to be with any of his family anymore.

Alistair’s words came out as a stream of consciousness, Ominis listened attentively to each mumble and stutter, each hiccoughed confession and each pause and beat, as Alistair searched for the words to describe everything he felt.

“He doesn’t want me anymore…” Alistair said quietly.

“That’s not true, Al. You know that.” Ominis said softly.

“That’s why he’s telling me now…cause he knows I’m going to Hogwarts and he wants me to stay there forever.” Alistair sulked, giving a small sniff as his tears eased off.

This sentiment resonated with Ominis so deeply: that Hogwarts served as an escape, not least for himself, but also his family. Although Ominis had made his peace long ago, choosing the most isolated and remote location to get away from all that haunted him in the past.

“He hates me…” Alistair said under his breath.

Ominis tutted, giving Alistair a squeeze.

“Oh Al…he…” He sighed. Truthfully, it broke Ominis’s heart to be with such a young boy who was so distraught. He thought, no boy should have to feel this way, no matter what the reason.

“…he doesn’t hate you.” Ominis said tenderly.

“I know what kind of dad hates his own son…and your dad loves you...so much.” Ominis continued, his heart sank as he heard such few, yet heartbreaking words come from Alistair. Words that Ominis grew up understanding in their entirety.

“He’s been alone for a very, very long time…” Ominis continued, running a hand over Alistair’s hair, “Don’t you want your father to be happy?”

“I…I do. But why am I not enough?”

“You are…” Ominis pressed his lips together. He struggled to find the right words to say. What was he to possibly say to a boy about a frankly very dire situation in the first place?

“…Al…sometimes…people just fall in love again. Doesn’t mean you forget about the ones you’ve loved before, correct?”

Alistair nodded silently.

“And Gene-I mean your mum…she deserves to be happy too, yes?”

Alistair nodded again.

“So, you’ve got to see them as just people, Al. They both love you so much. Your dad can be happier, which means he’ll be a better dad for you. Your mum can focus on the things that’ll make her truly happy too. When the two of them take care of themselves, it only means you’ll have double the amount of love.” Ominis was worried he had rambled, that he wasn’t making sense. Maybe Alistair was still too young to understand that his parents fundamentally were two lost people, scrambling to make sense of this world, just as much as he was.

Alistair looked up at his uncle.

“Omi…can I stay with you?” He said timidly. He squeezed Ominis’s hand, waiting for his uncle’s response eagerly. He had hoped so deeply that Ominis would say yes, and he’d run away from it all, that he’d live the rest of his days in the idyllic, peaceful cottage that brought the two of them so much peace. He’d still go to Hogwarts, of course, but he’d go back to Ominis’s during the breaks, and the two of them would relish in the peace and quiet, found both internally and overall.

Ominis smiled.

“When do you head off for Hogwarts?” He asked.

“In a week.” Alistair said with a sulk.

Ominis nodded. He stood up from the couch, walking to his desk where stacks of parchment were laid, and bottles of ink with quills remained open. Quite an ornate area, that was clearly where Ominis spent a lot of his time.

“I’ll let your mum and dad know you’re here. They’re probably worried sick.”

Alistair smiled at his uncle. His heart bloomed, the first sliver of hope he’d felt all evening. He was safe for tonight. Tomorrow, he would deal with what was to come. Alistair buried himself further onto Ominis’s couch, the warmth of the fire encasing him with a safe, fuzzy feeling.

By the time Ominis had sent off the two owls to Sebastian and Genevieve, Alistair was fast asleep. Ominis heard the gentle sounds of Alistair’s breath, as he had drifted off to a land far from reality.

~*~*~*~

Alistair was greeted with very familiar surroundings. The same paths he’d stomp in when they got too muddy and filled with puddles. The same wooden fences that he’d scramble over, only to fall and graze his knee.

Alistair’s heart was settled, his earlier fury starting to subside as he felt the comforts of home again. Yet a lump in his throat formed, as he thought back to the way he stormed away from his father’s house. He trudged along now, refusing to let himself get caught up in his emotions again.

With a rattle of the front door, Alistair stepped into his childhood home. Overcome with emotion once again, he unwillingly found his face wet with tears as he smelled the familiar smell of his home.

“Duckie…you’re home.” A voice called out from the kitchen. Genevieve stood looking at her son, a young man in her eyes, so grown, yet his expression at this moment showed the same child-like fear that she had seen so many times before, for all the nightmares, grazed knees, and upset tummies that she had helped him through.

Alistair let his trunk fall with a thud, as he run towards his mother, embracing her tightly into her arms. His head buried into her neck, as his body silently shook.

“Mum…I’m so sorry.” His voice was muffled, as he gripped her tighter than ever.

Genevieve said nothing more, only holding her son in her arms, consoling him in a way that rendered her own self inconsolable.

[biggestsimponhere]

can you please do 1 and 2 for the christmas prompts with wednesday addams? thank you if you do:)

Christmas music - Wednesday Addams x reader, ignore that I’m letting her smile, I just want her to be happy, P.S I couldn’t tell which set of 1 and 2 you wanted if you wanted the other set please request those and I’d be happy to make them <3 Also in this, Wednesday, you and Enid share a dorm, just pretend it’s big enough 😭 btw reader is GN

Christmas time. Everyone’s favorite time of the year. Well almost everyone, Wednesday Addams hates Christmas, claims there’s not enough death or something. You however love Christmas, so as soon as thanksgiving was over you and Enid started decorating your dorm. You had been decorating for about three hours. Playing Christmas music and you and Enid singing loudly Wednesday left the dorm about halfway through hour two. “Do you think we should invite our friends to see?” Enid said while hanging another string of lights. “Oh my god, yes!” You said hanging another piece on tinsel. Enid quickly finished that string of lights and then rushed out of the dorm.

You continued to hang things around yours and Enids half of the dorm. You only put one string of lights on Wednesday half (you didn’t want her to get mad, not that she’d ever get mad at you). Soon Enid came back with Bianca, Xavier, Ajax and Wednesday. “Are you really still decorating?” Wednesday said a slight smile gracing her features. “It looks like Christmas threw up in here” Bianca said laughing. “Hey! I think it looks good” Ajax said smiling at Enid. “Thank you Ajax” she said smiling back. “What do you think Xavier?” You asked raising an eyebrow at him. “Whatever doesn’t get me killed” He said raising his hands in surrender. “Okay well then thank you for that very nice compliment Xavier” you said smiling at him.

“Who put the lights on Wednesdays side?” Bianca asked. “I did” you said looking from Bianca to Wednesday. She looked upset for a second before moving to touch them. “They’re very cheap, if you’re going to hang lights on my side make them higher quality” she said looking at you. “Alright then” You said still smiling. “I think they look great y/n” Ajax piped in. “Thank you Ajax, now we have hot chocolate and cookies if you guys want to stay” You said moving back to your phone to keep playing music. “Cookies? I’m in” Xavier said grabbing one and sitting on the edge of your bed. You and Enid finished up decorating while singing.

“As much as we love you, we don’t need to hear you guys sing Christmas music” Bianca said grabbing another cookie. “I don’t know, I like it” Wednesday said, surprising everyone. “Alright then” Bianca said before standing, “Well I’ve got to go study, have fun” Bianca said walking out the door. Xavier quickly stood up, “I should probably go with her” He said walking out of the dorm. “Enid and I have a date tonight so we better go” Ajax said standing up and pulling Enid out of the dorm. You moved over to Wednesdays half of the room and sat on her bed next to her. “I saved a cookie for you” you said offering it to her. “Thank you” she said looking at you before grabbing it.

You both just sat there in silence. Her reading and you just sitting silently beside her. Soon you noticed her book go limp in her hands. You slowly pulled it out and grabbed the bookmark from her side and slid it into the book. You quietly put the book off to the side before pulling her down into a laying position. You wrapped your arms around her pulling her into you. Resting your head on here and listening to her breathing out slowly drifted off to sleep, content to have your best friends and love of your life, safe in your arms.

Again I know this is short but I need to get used to writing for Wednesday characters and some of the prompts don’t really offer that long of one- shots 😭✋